#putting himself in someone else's shoes is usually pretty difficult for him as he has undiagnosed ASPD and that has really contributed-

[mad-hunts]

both matilda and barton were keenly aware that joker was watching them like a hawk. so, although she was tempted to pull away from him, his daughter decided she had just one more thing to do. matilda very subtly tilted her head in such a way that their 'unwelcome guest' wouldn't be able to tell that she was very quietly whispering to him; and at such an audio that even barton barely heard it, in fact. but the important thing was that he'd caught it for she had told him something in code that meant 'just say the word' in relation to joker. it didn't exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out that there wasn't something quite right with their new comedian friend, barton thought.

and how ironic that was for him to think, because unbeknowst to him, arthur was talking about how weird he was acting with what could potentially be one big thorn in his side: the batman. a sigh came from him as the only thing he could think about right now was that the unruly golden ringlets atop his head were going to get so poofy because of the rain. it only appeared to be getting worse and one way this was illustrated was by how the light teal of the also almost doll-like dress matilda wore was becoming a darker hue of teal, which was kind of bad news for her, as it wasn't a cheap dress. it was made out of satin. but between holding onto barton a little longer to maintain the façade that she was upset, or pulling away early and thus breaking the illusion, she chose the first option.

by this time, barton was fully hugging matilda back and looked down at the ground, trying to just listen to her to see if any of this distress could be genuine or whether it was all an act. he maneuvered a hand up to cradle her head then with a shocking amount of gentleness. barton didn't let his guard down, though, as the image of joker's service animal in the corner of his eye reminded him that he wanted something from them. he didn't know what, but if it wasn't obvious before, then it was now. ❝ hey... you're acting like something seriously bad happened, lovebug. you've got to tell me what's going on, ❞ matilda finally pulled away from barton and she covered up both sides of her face at first, before rubbing her hands down it.

matilda silently listened to joker for a moment. no one's threatened you... well, that was pretty untrue, actually. she had one hell of a shiner around her left eye. ❝ honestly, from my friends leaving me stranded in there and ending up with this from some jackass who wouldn't leave me alone, i guess you could just say that i'm... really glad to be out of there. i mean, i tried to leave as soon as you texted me earlier, but this guy stopped me on the way out. i think he must've been as drunk as a skunk or something because he accused me of stealing from him, which i obviously didn't do, ❞ barton knew that that whole story was probably a lie, but he did know that he wanted to kill whoever hit his daughter; no matter what circumstances they were under.

barton was basically seething with anger when he saw the bruise around matilda's eye. ❝ oh? so, you're telling me someone hit you, in there? what'd he look like? and before you say anything, i just want to talk to him, ❞ that was a lie if matilda had ever heard one. she chuckled in feigned surprise at that, raising both of her eyebrows at once. ❝ oh my god... dad. i took care of it, so you don't need to do anything. in fact, please don't. he can get really scary when he's mad, ❞ matilda directed this comment towards arthur before she finally noticed the small puncture wound on his palm. from there, she forcefully took his hand and she barely looked up at him to say, ❝ it seems like you have a big family. what's that like? is it as chaotic as it sounds, or it is nice? ❞ she offered him a small smile. ❝ eh, well, you know that saying ' packed like a can of sardines? ' it's pretty much like that. mm, the dancers up on stage tonight were good, i'll give them that. ❞

matilda was lying through her teeth about the dancers. but the less that arthur knew, the better. his daughter finally opened up the umbrella that had been loaned to her by barton and gestured towards the other to take it. ❝ your makeup's running, so you can go ahead and borrow this, if you want. as for the drops — sadly, yes. the drug problem here just keeps on getting worse and worse, ❞ barton ever-so-slightly squinted his eyes at joker as if he was trying to read him. he'd let his nails get out of control, that much was for certain, but he had been 'taking a break' from practicing for about a month now... which really only meant he wasn't seeing any patients outside of surgery. and when he did surgery, it was with precautions taken so that his nails wouldn't breach the gloves ( though usually they were shorter and less sharp. ) the thing about gotham metropolitan was that he'd actually worked there quite some years ago, and they did have strict policies about how long your nails could be. but now that he had his own clinic, he could set the hygiene standards for it.

that didn't mean that he wanted it's existence to be known to the public, though, as his main clientele was criminals. forging some documents to make it appear as if he was working at the hospital like he had years ago was his solution to this. and it always helped to have someone on the inside who could quote unquote ' make that official. ' a micro-expression of displeasure seemed to flash across barton's face for just a second as he made prolonged eye contact with him. all the while, matilda wrapped his hand with a roll of bandages she'd taken out of her purse.

the corner of his lips curled as if to say ' i may not even know you that well yet, but i already hate you. '

Joker expects a gruff burst in his ear once his focus settles on Dr. Mathis’ pocket. Matilda dropped something in there. What exactly, Joker can’t tell. Neither can the younger Wayne heir from their family’s defunct terminal. Squinting won’t help, but it does relieve his red-streaked eyes. How tree pollen has managed to swamp the city is beyond him.

Werewolf slips the cigarette from his mouth to cough into his elbow. He resists the urge to paw at his nose. MAC Chromacake pigments dry down matte, but mist already has begun beading on the surface. A pale blue streak trickles from Tragedy’s eye, down his cheek, and into the margins of his scarlet simper. It has no taste.

Blaring horns don’t distract him, though incoming footsteps while his back is partially turned compels Joker to glance over his shoulder. The line remains wrapped around Paradise’s facade and around the corner. Overcast keeps bruising the night sky.

Sokol side-guards Joker on the left. The black wolf-dog’s ghoulish eyes remain locked on the father-daughter duo before them. One of the doctor’s palms bleeds. Joker hones in on it while accounting for both sets of hands. Those hands could never touch a patient. Something isn’t right. A chill rolls the length of Joker’s spine. He rears his chin, tucks the damp cigarette to his lips so he can inhale as it’s dying, then force himself to breathe.

Without moonlight to transform under, the lycan is left to shift from sole to sole; dipping his shoulders and carrying his torso on that subtle current. Each time he blinks, Bruce loses focus. He has more than plentiful clear frames to screenshot and print, but it’s the jostling of the cameras that unnerve him most. 

“Stand your ground and stay in plain sight,” Bruce’s instruction is calm as, ‘MATHIS, MATILDA’ appears alongside the young woman’s perfect face. No place of employment listed, however. She’s in every way proportionate; a living doll. Scars from cosmetic procedures to achieve such a flawless veneer might dent her skin here and there, but Joker isn’t close enough to know for sure. Those low-resolution lenses certainly can't reveal if any cosmetic procedures have taken place. “No one’s threatened you,” his reminder’s gentle enough to soothe one of his little nieces, “No one’s gonna hurt you. Just hold steady.”

A gradual drop of Joker's left hand settles over the bracelet tucked under his cuff. Three quick taps onto the moon-shaped charm with his thumb are followed by three longer taps, then three short taps. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. Again. The moon symbol lights up once. Joker covers it with his thumb, then allows his damp sleeve to fall back down and resumes smoking. The Chief’s Special carves his hip. Joker rakes his left hand-heel over the revolver’s snout and remains in position. 

“I’ve got three,” Joker speaks in reference to daughters, but scrunches his face and clarifies, “They’re all little, though. My oldest is five,” youngest has yet to be born, “And my son’s a baby.” His chin nudges toward the doors guarded by Dalí’s long lost twin, “How packed is it in there, Ma’am?” Joker asks Matilda, though his voice might be swallowed by the rain’s hiss. “My wife's on her way. We were just waiting on our sitter,” he’s doubtful Gary had evening plans, “She likes the cabaret.” 

“That was smooth,” though Bruce knows his older brother can’t comment aloud, Joker preens in a fashion that opens his chest up enough for the little brother to know he’s gloating. “Nothing about this guy’s behavior is right. Not hers either. I’m gonna look up his medical license and see if he’s really still in practice. It’s against board regulations to have nails like that. Unless Gotham Metropolitan’s nixed its scalpel budget…” Bruce thinks he’s funny. Joker’s stomach knots in a bow. For that, he paws at his eyeballs and rattles the image Bruce is seeing enough to intentionally trigger a migraine or motion sickness on the younger brother's end. “Do you think they retract like that X-Men villain?”

Joker would roll his eyes if only he could. Instead he puffs enough smoke for a veil to float over his eyes. The rain won’t let it last. Droplets thicken and fall like little guillotine blades. They cut past polyester and soak the satin sleeves of Joker’s dress shirt so they cling to his skin. His chest cinches, leading Joker to cough again and expel any smoke that might remain in his chest. Once more he checks both father and daughter’s hands, then winds Sokol’s light blue lead tighter around his own hand. 

“Are they still slinging Drops around like candy in there…?” Joker speaks to Matilda again, though Dr. Mathis hasn’t left his eyeshot, “Last time, we were practically stepping over bodies just to get to the bar.”

“Try to figure out what she does,” Bruce speaks in reference to Matilda, “I don’t have an employer for her…and she’s being just as weird as he is.” Before Joker interrupts him with some canned, ‘You can’t just tail people because they’re weird,’ Bruce stresses, “He practically admitted to killing that cop, then tripped over it once he knew he couldn’t take it back. Worst comes to worst, have Nix give him a shake-down and see what falls out of his pocket.” Joker slackens his jaw, but isn’t certain if his brother’s joking. “Maybe it is Drops.” Certainly wouldn’t be a body.

[skaruresonic]

Yes, because when he told Blaze not to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders in Rush, he was speaking from firsthand experience of guarding the Chaos Emeralds under the threat of apocalypse. He didn't step out of his own shoes for two seconds and think to himself, "But it seems like she's had a rough past" …wait

IDW!Sonic would be more like

"He's just like me fr fr" strikes again. Once more we have Games!Sonic heavily implied to be unrealistic, as if A.) he has no emotions, and B.) the only way he can empathize with others is by making things really about himself.

"Nobody can be endlessly positive" - okay, but Games!Sonic... isn't.

He has doubts. He gets tired. He makes mistakes. He feels sadness and guilt. He has a temper, gets frustrated, gets irritated (sometimes with his friends, even!). He's not some perfect smiling Pollyanna who's never suffered a single doubt in his life just because he prefers not to dwell on the negative. It's just that his will is so strong that he knows setbacks are temporary and he keeps pushing on regardless.

However, he's also not the type to wear his every emotion on his sleeve a la Amy and Eggman, and expecting him to is putting an unfair onus on him to be something he's not. Somehow his positivity, which is supposed to be inspirational and not strictly relatable, translates into "he has no Realistic Emotions(tm)." And it irks me to no end because once again, you are denying merit and dimension to Games!Sonic's character.

Not to mention, where would he have gotten this experience? The metal virus? Sonic pretty much had to run himself ragged just for a chance of survival. He didn't have a choice. It's not like he forfeited sleep because he wanted to.

All those times he should have taken responsibility… He didn't. Sonic can't assume too much responsibility if he shirks the ones he already has.

Also, listen. As someone who is currently experiencing vertigo and burnout at a degree that makes it difficult to be functional (can't really do much if the only state you can tolerate is lying down): if Sonic gave me this advice, in those words, I would be discouraged. He's emphasizing how ~useless~ the burned-out person would be to others instead of emphasizing that health is in and of itself important.

Jewel is already hard on herself---why add to her guilt by saying "relax or else you won't be able to serve others?" I mean, I already feel guilty that my brain and body basically shortcircuited from stress. thanks, Sonic

Furthermore, how come he didn't whip out this pep talk for Amy when she was overworking herself?

Oh, yeah, right. In issue 12, the Chaotix swung by demanding pay and he pretty much left her high and dry with a snarky look on his face.

I'm not just being A Hater(tm) like usual, either; the book makes frequent mention of how exhausted, busy, and stressed Amy is. The following examples all come from different arcs.

[seriouslysnape]

One and Only

__

Severus Snape x Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Request: Hi! Could you write something about jealous reader with Snape? I wonder how would he react if he find out she got jealous even though they have healthy relationship and trust each other (〃°ω°〃) (fluff, smut whatever you feel like to write) Thanks! 🐍💚

Word Count: 1,632

“Really? So, you’re just being short with me for no reason?”

__

The early days of summer had brought sun warmed days and moon cooled nights with each rotation of the Earth. The joyous season had brought beautiful weather this year, and you had been in high spirits since the season had arrived. Summer always filled you with such merriment and thrill that it was no doubt that it was your favorite time of year.

Which was why Severus couldn’t figure out why you were in such a bad mood.

A sour scowl had been plastered on your face all afternoon, robbing your demeanor of its usual glee and pep. To put it in simplest terms, you were pouting. 

It didn’t take Severus long to notice that something was bugging you. You refused to look him in the eye and you were only responding with short sentences with a flat tone. He felt a twinge of hurt when you brushed him off every time his hands were on you. You were upset with him, which was why he wanted to get through to you. 

“What do you want for dinner, love?” Severus called sweetly from the kitchen. 

You were curled up on the sofa in the living room with a book in hand. You heard him loud and clear, but ignored him. Your eyes continued to scan the pages from line to line, but you weren’t really sure how much you were actually comprehending. 

When he didn’t get a reply, Severus appeared in the doorway. He could feel the tension from all the way where he stood which sent a shiver down his back.

“Did you hear me, angel?” He asked in the same light voice he had used before.

You didn’t look up from your novel, only raising a brow to subtly let him know that you were acknowledging his presence. He spoke again.

“I asked what you want for dinner tonight.” He repeated.

You looked up from the words on the pages, annoyance clear on your face with pursed lips and dim eyes. 

“I don’t know. Whatever is fine.” You said almost in a growl.

You went back to your book, avoiding the concerned look on his face. You felt a little bad for making him feel guilty. Maybe you were being a bit childish, but your stubborn nature almost always seemed to win out. 

“I’ll cook whatever you want. Vegetables are always so fresh this time of year so I-”

“Severus, I really don’t care what we have.” You cut him off, closing your book in defeat and putting it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Okay...well, how about we go to the park and watch the sunset after we eat? It’s been clear skies all day.” He offered gently.

Normally, you’d perk up at the sound of a summer evening walk in the park, but you remained unchanged. Something had really pissed you off.

“Fine with me.” You replied curtly.

Severus was rather fed up with your snarky behavior, but he was more worried that he had done something wrong. He discarded the thought of dinner and your evening plans for now, taking his place in the living room to join you.

“[Y/N], have I done something to upset you?” He queried, taking a seat on the adjacent sofa cushion.

Your irritated frown was still prevalent as ever, the slight roll of your pretty eyes telling him that he had indeed ruffled your feathers. 

“No.” You lied.

Severus hummed.

“Really? So, you’re just being short with me for no reason?” He acquired.

“I’m not being short.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Severus looked doubtful at that, because you were definitely aggravated. 

“I know I haven’t missed your birthday. It’s not your time of the month. You were fine this morning so it’s something that happened earlier this afternoon.” Severus rattled off.

You went silent, because he was right. Every summer, Headmaster Dumbledore would host a summer luncheon type event for all the Hogwarts professors and their significant others. It was a party of sorts to celebrate another successful year of teaching that was always a hit.

“It wasn’t the lunch party, was it? You had such a nice time.” He wondered.

“Yeah, so did you and McGonagall.” You snapped.

The words left your mouth before you could even process them. Severus’ head twitched in surprise at the sudden confession. He was confused only for a moment before his puzzlement melted into realization. He couldn’t even hide the smirk in his face.

Severus was usually the one to get jealous. You were a strikingly gorgeous woman with a lot to offer. Men ogled over you often, and Severus found himself fighting off desperate suitors. You had a wonderful relationship with him, one that had changed him in the best of ways. You always reminded him of that whenever he grew jealous over someone else, which offered him comfort.

It was interesting to him now that the shoe was on the other foot.

“Are you jealous of Minerva?” He asked.

Your answer wasn’t immediate. Your hesitation gave you away.

“No...” You lied again.

“Oh, you so are.” Severus said lowly.

You continued to refuse to look at him, not giving into him. You weren’t necessarily jealous of Minerva herself. She had always been super kind to you and was a wonderful friend. You sometimes felt a little insecure about the relationship she held with Severus. The term “work wife” had flown into your ears a couple of times from various people, and while you knew that Severus’ friendship with Minerva was strictly platonic, it still bothered you sometimes.

Severus had chatted with Minerva throughout the afternoon, and it seemed that every time you looked over they were laughing or immensely enjoying each other’s company. It put a twist in your gut that you hated the feeling of, and it had landed you in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

“What did Minerva do that has you so uptight?” He questioned.

It felt silly and even a little humiliating to admit that she hadn’t done anything more than speak to him to get you so fired up.

“I’m not telling you.” You mused. 

Severus quirked a brow, and shrugged.

“Fine. If you won’t tell me, then I suppose I’ll have to force it out of you.” He remarked, suddenly creeping closer to you.

Before you could stop him, his hands were at your sides, tickling your sensitive skin and areas that he knew could have you sputtering for air. You broke out into loud giggles and shrieks, a smile plastered on your cheeks. You wriggled underneath him, trying to get away from his attack of kisses and tickles. It wasn’t long before your lungs were painfully constricting and gasping for oxygen, your face going red hot as you pleaded.

“Okay! I’ll tell you!” You screeched.

Heavy breaths of relief sounded out when he stopped. He watched in slight amusement as you regained yourself, your body now sprawled out against the couch cushions. Your laughter dwindled out, the tone in the room changing. You lazily dragged your fingertips along his forearm as he looked down at you from where he straddled you. 

Insecurity was a difficult thing to grasp, and even harder to deal with. You had coaxed Severus through his bouts of it before, but you were now seeing firsthand how kicking it is easier said than done.

The annoyance was gone from your face, but it was replaced with perturbation and even a little sadness. He cradled your face in his hand, running the pad of his thumb along your cheek.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He persuaded you to speak.

“You love me, right?” You pondered, eyes wide and puppy like.

The pang in Severus’ heart was overwhelming. It was such a simple question, but with such heartbreaking implications. Feeling neglected or unloved was the last thing that he ever wanted for you. Severus had plenty of experience with feeling alone in a world of people who always seemed to have their lives figured out. Hearts are meant to provide life and spend their best energy on loving others.

It was a damn hard feeling when your heart didn’t have anyone to love...or when your heart didn’t feel loved.

“Darling, what’s all this? Of course I do,” He hushed; “I love you more than anything. You’re my wife.” 

“I know.” You said shortly, but not in the same way you had earlier.

“I mean it, [Y/N]. Every time I’ve ever told you that I love you, I meant it. You’re my world and my reason for breathing,” He proclaimed, thick with sincerity; “If I made you feel unloved or unworthy, I assure you that wasn’t my intent.”

You shook your head.

“No, no. It wasn’t you,” You replied; “I just care about and love you so much that if I ever lost you to someone else...” 

It was too hurtful of a thought to even finish saying out loud. Severus was glad you didn’t, because he wasn’t sure he could’ve handled it. He had committed to a life of love with you, a commitment that he was determined to stick with. 

“You’re the love of my life, my one and only. I’ll love you forever and beyond.” He professed.

You leaned upwards, catching his lips in a reassuring kiss. They felt like the warmth of the summer sun and the sweetness of your favorite summer fruit. A comforting feeling that you’d go running back to every time. It could always feel like your favorite time of year with Severus.

“So...dinner?” You asked once he had pulled away and was looking into you again.

He shrugged, a devious grin beaming on his chiseled face.

“I say we skip to dessert.”

[thedevilsdom]

snake girlfriend

contains: F!Reader/Leviathan, pegging, feminization, cross dressing, taking your snake gf out on a date

i wanted to see feminization with Leviathan, to nobody’s surprise

word count: ~6.5k

You were surprised by how little convincing it took to have Leviathan agree to this.

You were just hanging out with him in his room one day, doing what you usually do there, which is go on your D.D.D or on a handheld console while he played something on his computer and you two just enjoyed doing your own thing in the company of each other. Suddenly, you were struck with a brilliant idea, and decided why not bring it up to your boyfriend?

“Levi,” You called, grabbing his attention away from his game. He pulled his headphones down to around his neck, played for a second or two more so that he could get somewhere he could pause, and spun his chair around to face you in his bathtub. You look up at him casually, turning your phone screen to show him what you were looking at. On your social media feed, you’d gotten a post from someone about an outfit of the day they were wearing. It was simple, a cute white blouse and a dusty pink skirt, with thigh high white socks and cute brown leather shoes. He squinted at your screen for a moment then looks past it to you,

“Y-yeah, you’d look cute in that.” He stated, thinking that that’s what you were asking, before putting his headphones back on. Before he could turn back to his computer, you giggled,

“Not on me, baby.”

And he froze.

“I was thinking about… You know how you put on cute little things for me, sometimes?” You said, referring to his cosplay, costumes, and lingerie that you’ve either seen or had him wear. “I was thinking about how maybe we could get you all pretties up and I could take you out for a day on the town.” By this point you’d stepped out of the tub and walked over to him, one hand on one arm rest of his chair, and the other gently holding his chin to make him look up at you. His face was flaming red. “I could take you out as my pretty little girlfriend.”

“Y-yes! Of course!” He yelped, voice high. You tried to not let the shock show on your face, surprised at how very little you had to say before he was agreeing to your idea. Instead, you give him a pleased smile and a short, soft kiss.

“Good. I’ll get everything ready, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” You started scrolling through your phone in preparation. “I’ll tell you once I figure out when we’re doing this.” You knew that Leviathan likes to know things ahead of time, so nothing gets sprung on him, though of course telling him also gives him the opportunity to start getting anxious ahead of time, but you figured that that’s better than him going into a fit and refusing to leave the house because he doesn’t feel prepared enough.

Over the course of the next couple of days, you figured out the perfect day that you could use for this. Lucifer was going to be at meetings with Diavolo, Mammon had to catch up on RAD work, Satan had a debate, and so on and so forth. Everyone was going to be busy, save for you and Leviathan, and that meant that there wouldn’t be any chance for any of them to spot you two outside. You didn’t really care if they saw you, but you knew that Leviathan would rather anything other than his brothers seeing him dolled up like that.

During that time, you’d also managed to get your hands on something that Leviathan could wear. With your preparations out of the way, you’re ready for your date with your beautiful girlfriend.

--

The day finally rolls around and you get up, immediately sending a message to Leviathan.

MC: >> Do you want to eat something here and then go out? That way we could have tea at a nice little café while we’re out

Levi: >> Sounds good to me

MC: > I’ll grab something for us from the kitchen and head up

You swing by the kitchen, whipping up some ‘breakfast ramen’, that Leviathan had told you how to make. Really it was just instant noodles with an egg, but it was something familiar that he liked, and you figure that he’s probably feeling a little anxious and this should settle his nerves at least a little. Once that’s ready, you take that and the other stuff you’d need up to his room.

By the time you get there, Leviathan’s been up for a little bit, kind of just puttering about his room, keeping himself occupied with little things until you arrive. When you open the door, his eyes go wide for a second before he spots the tray in your hands and rushes over, taking it from you and setting it down at his desk. He pulls up his gaming chair and the second seat in his room that you’d made him buy, setting them up and putting a bowl in front of each of the chairs. Once organized, he immediately starts chowing down.

“So,” You say, taking a bite of some of your own noodles, “I was thinking that we could go shopping for a little bit, then maybe go grab a bite and head home a little after?” Watching him nod tentatively, you push the bag you’d brought to him, “You can look at your outfit, if you want.”

He finishes his meal quickly and unzips the bag, looking into it and pulling each item out one by one. The first thing out is a long sleeved, white blouse, with little cuffs at the wrists that make the sleeve bell out just a little bit. The next thing he takes out is the pair of white thigh high stockings, they have tiny white bows at the top cuff. Then the shoes, they’re simple and leather with a little bit of a heel, something he could comfortably walk in for a while, while not looking too masculine. Next out is a wig, soft and comfortable, and similar to his own hair color, already styled by you into a style that’s vaguely reminiscent of Ruri-Chan’s twin ponytails. Finally, he pulls out the skirt. It’s baby pink and pleated, reminiscent of a school girl’s uniform.

“There’s more stuff in there.” You say through a mouthful of noodles, gesturing with your chopsticks. He sets the clothing aside and peers into the bag, curious. Inside he spots some basic make up, and under it-

“I- I can’t wear that!” He gasps, shoving the bag and its contents back at you. You catch the bag effortlessly and pull out the little lingerie set.

“Nobody will see it but me, and I think your boxers would show past the hem of your skirt.” You state, setting the bag down on the floor next to your seat. “But if you wouldn’t be comfortable in them, we can figure something else out.” Leaning forward, you give him a kiss on the forehead, “I want you to have a good time today.” Extending the hand that holds the lingerie set out to him, you leave the option open for his consideration.

Timid hands with painted nails delicately take the lingerie as Leviathan looks it over. He feels the texture of the fabric between his finger tips. Its smooth, soft, and it feels like it’d actually be more comfortable than his current briefs. Along with a pair of white, simple panties, is a bralette. It’s sheer and white, with no cups or any real form, it would hug against his chest. He knows that this won’t serve any real purpose besides you knowing that he’s wearing it. A shiver races down his spine at that.

“I-I’ll wear it!” He yelps, more loudly than he intended, his hand immediately flying to his mouth and covering it. You giggle, a sound that makes his heart flutter.

“I’m glad, Levi.” You take his hand and press a kiss to his knuckles. “Should I help you get dressed, or can you manage?” He looks at you, then looks away, then back at you as he mulls over the options.

“I-I’ll get myself ready.”

With that, you give him a gentle smile and gather up the dishes from your breakfast.

“I’ll be back in a little bit to do your make up, then.” You pick up the tray and walk out of the room.

While you’re out washing the dishes and changing into something else yourself, Leviathan is putting his new outfit on.

One he takes everything off, he starts with the lingerie set. He pulls the panties on. With his cocks hidden behind his reptilian vent, they fit well, hugging his form. He can’t help but step in front of his mirror, admiring how they look on him. He struggles a little bit with the bralette before he manages to clip it closed properly, glancing at the mirror again.

Usually Leviathan can’t stand to see himself in the mirror. He usually feels like a slob, someone who doesn’t take care of himself, someone who nobody could possibly think is attractive. Now as he puts his outfit on piece by piece, the outfit that you got for him, the one that you wanted him to wear, the one that you specifically requested he wear because you wanted to see him in it, he can’t take his eyes off his reflection. As his fingers do the final button on his blouse, everything else already on, he feels wanted. He feels loved.

You knock on the door.

You’ve put on the clothes that you plan on wearing out, and you rock back and forth on your heels as you wait for Leviathan to give you the all clear.

“MC? Y-you can come in!” He calls out from the inside of the room. You turn the doorknob and push it open stepping in. The second your eyes land on Leviathan, you can’t help yourself from dropping your bag at the door and approaching him, your arms wrapping around his waist while you admire him.

“You’re so pretty, Levi,” Your voice is an awestruck whisper that makes his face red. You press a kiss to his lips, “Beautiful,” Then one to his jaw, then one on his neck.

“S-s-stop! We- don’t we still- uhm!” He stammers out, head spinning. You smile against his neck, your warm breath making him tremble.

“Right, we still have a date to go on, don’t we?” You pull back. “Go sit, let’s get your make up on.”

Putting make up on Leviathan isn’t too difficult, especially since you’re doing a very simple look. Just a little lipgloss, some mascara, blush, hardly much else but it does leagues to make him look more feminine. He already has a somewhat round face and long lashes, so it truly wasn’t difficult.

“You’re so beautiful,” You sigh, putting away the make up and brushes to take care of later, when you come back. “I get to take my beautiful girlfriend on a nice date!” You sing. Leviathan’s still coming to terms with the fact that you actually want to go out and do something like this with him. You take his hand and lead him out of the room, making your way towards your first destination.

The first place you go to is the main shopping street just a little bit away from the House of Lamentation. You keep Leviathan’s hand in yours the whole time, glancing up at him whenever you can. His expression is nervous, anticipatory, but excited. He looks happy to be here, out with you. As you get to be a couple blocks away from the House, and nearing the shopping street, you stroke your thumb across his hand.

“How are you feeling?” You ask.

“Good,” He says. “It’s c-comfy… And I like- it- it’s nice, knowing that you think I look good.” The longer he speaks, the quieter he gets, his free hand fiddling with the hem of his skirt.

“Baby, I always think you look good.” You press a kiss to his hand. “You don’t have to worry about a thing today, okay? Just have a good time. I’ll do the talking for you, if you want.” He gives an eager little nod, letting you lead the way.

You make your way to the shopping street easily. You hear Leviathan’s heels clicking on the stone path as you lead him into a little new comic shop that he’d been meaning to stop at for some time now, but had never gotten out of the house to do it. His eyes light up when he steps inside, immediately dragging you around the store to point out the different things he sees, from the décor reminiscent of some of his favorite series, to the new issues of the comics and manga he’s been reading. He finds himself at one of the bins of comics, walking his fingers across the tops of each issue in the bin, examining them to see if there’s anything in there that he doesn’t own yet.

While he’s doing that, you notice a trio of demons enter the comic shop and you immediately notice one of them looking at Leviathan, whose back is to them. You glance at Levi, put together easily that with his natural height plus the heels, he has to be bending over to look through the comic books, and you’re sure that neither him nor you want some random demon seeing up his skirt. You step between the demon and Levi, crossing your arms and just giving them a glare.

When the demon steps forward, you do to, intending to be far enough from Levi that he can’t hear what you say. The demon thankfully doesn’t try to sidestep you to get to him. When you both meet in the middle of your paths, they point past you at Levi.

“That your friend?” They say. They look like they’re about to talk more when you cut them off,

“My girlfriend, actually.” You school your expression into something stern. You’re not looking for a fight or an argument, but you want to put a stop to this right here. Luckily, the demon gets what you’re saying, mumbles an apology, and stumbles back off to meet back up with their friends somewhere else in the shop. By the time you spin back around, Leviathan has picked a book and is leaned back against the table with the bins, holding the book to his chest and looking like a girl straight out of an anime.

With a couple easy strides to him, you lean up and kiss him on the cheek.

“Is this all you want?” Your hands carefully take the comic from him, looking at the cover. For a second, you’re worried that having seen that interaction between you and the demon could have soured the mood and made him uncomfortable, but instead, he responds,

“Heheh… You protected me from that guy like I’m some kind of love interest~” He sang with a shy, dopey kind of smile.

“You are my love interest, silly.” You chuckle, walking with him over to the counter and buying the comic for him, handing him the little shopping bag once you’re done.

Once you’re outside the store, you’re holding Leviathan’s free hand in your own. You spend a little longer mostly popping in and out of different comic shops, manga stores, and game stores and letting Leviathan wander around. In the last game store you stop in, another group of demons is eyeing Leviathan up, but you just give them a stern look and it’s enough to shoo them off, thankfully. When you walk over to Leviathan, he’s found a game he wants, and he’s staring down at it in his hands, but you can’t help but notice that he’s a little spacey. His eyes are half lidded with his pupils blown, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his cheeks tinted pink.

“Levi? Baby girl?” You hum, tugging on his sleeve. He shivers at the name.

“Ah,” He looks at you, and you easily recognize exactly what he’s feeling. “I- Their envy, they’re so jealous, I can feel their envy.” He purrs. “They wanna be you, they wanna be me, but- but we’re us and-“ He drops his head against your shoulder, “And I’m yours and only yours.”

You can hear the smile in his voice. Lifting your hand, you pet the back of his head.

“You’re mine, baby,” You keep your voice low, so only you and him can hear it, “But if you get hard, your skirt won’t do a good job of hiding it.”

That has him yelping and pulling away from you straightening back up to his full height with a burning blush across his cheeks.  He only flushes redder at your mischievous smile.

“Or would you like that?” You ask. He fervently shakes his head, not trusting his mouth to speak. “Aw, what, you don’t want to show everybody what a good girl you are? How needy you are for me?”

“Nnno! No, MC, come on,” His hands grab the edge of his skirt’s hem at the front, holding and pulling it down. “Don’t make me think about- about that, please, don’t make me think about that!” Levi’s voice is hardly a whisper as he’s hunched over, looking up at you through teary eyes. He looks absolutely desperate.

“Alright, baby girl,” You give him a quick kiss and go and buy the game, leaving him standing there for a minute and hoping that he’ll manage to calm himself down a little, before returning slipping the game into his bag with his comic book. “You want to go grab something to eat?”

“U-uh, yeah, yeah sure.” He takes your hand again- his hand is so warm- and lets you lead him around to your next stop.

Getting a table at the café is fairly easy. It isn’t too crowded, but there are certainly enough people there to make the atmosphere nice and lively. Once you’re seated, you look up at Levi. Oddly enough, he looks a lot less anxious than he has on past outings. Though, every time he spots you looking at him, he blushes and looks away with a cute little smile on his face. You take his hand above the table and press a kiss to his knuckles, your lips soft against his skin,

“I have the prettiest girlfriend,” You sing. Levi’s cheeks take on a deep pink, and he looks around the café. As the seconds pass, you note that he’s slipping back into that turned on, spaced out kind of look again. “Oh? Levi,” Your thumb strokes across his knuckles, “You feeling how much all those demons wish they were in my spot? How much they want you?”

As you speak in a low voice, you stroke the inside of his calf with the toe of your shoe and he jumps so hard his knees bang against the underside of the table. You notice his free hand drift down between his legs and you give him a knowing smile.

“Y-you- you have to stop talking about that! I won’t, hnn, I won’t be able to stop myself from getting hard in my-“ His voice drops to a muted whisper, “in my panties…”

“Oh, so you do remember what I said earlier.” You smirk at Levi, who looks like he’s about to pass out. Luckily for him, by the time the waitress comes around to get your order, Leviathan’s managed to get himself under control, and both his hands have returned to rest on top of the table, one in yours.

“Hi! What can I get the two of you?” The waitress gives a sunny smile and you look up at her,

“I’ll take the short cake and…” Glancing at Levi, he’s giving you a docile, submissive smile so you go ahead, “And she’ll have the crepe.”

“Alright, one shortcake and one crepe, coming right up,” The waitress heads off to the kitchen and you turn back to Levi who’s got hearts in his eyes. You know that if he were in his demon form, his tail would be doing that cute little wiggle that it’s prone to do when he’s happy.

“I saw you looking at the picture, looks like something right out of a manga so I knew you’d like it.” You say, an innocent smile on your face as your foot resumes its teasing and he lets out a petulant whine, his hand reaching down to bat your foot away, and with a chuckle you resign to his wishes.

While you wait for the food to come out, you ask him about the new things he got, and let him explain them. His face is lit up the whole time, a big smile across his lips and eagerness in his eyes. He almost doesn’t notice when the waitress sets the food in front of you until you look at his crepe and nudge it closer to him. With a little ‘oh!’ he slips his game back into its bag and pulls the stand closer to him. It’s a Japanese style crepe, one that’s rolled into a cone and filled with cute little fruits and toppings. As he’s marveling at it, you can’t help but take out your D.D.D,

“Hey, baby girl,” You call softly, getting his attention and showing him that you want to take a photo. He gives you a peace sign and an adorable grin, and you snap the photo, immediately putting it into your password locked folder. Immediately after, you take your fork and scoop off a little piece of shortcake, extending your arm and offering to Levi.

The fingertips of his free hand loosely rests against your wrist for stability as he takes the fork past his sharp teeth and onto his forked tongue.

“Mm! That’s good!” He grins, pushing his crepe to you so you can try a little bit. You both continue that way, essentially splitting the desserts until you’re done. Once you are, you pay the check and head out.

“I’ve got one more place I wanna stop.” You say, checking the time. Even including the place you’re thinking of, you should be able to get through there and back to the House before any of Leviathan’s brothers are out and about. The thought of being caught doesn’t even cross his mind. He’s put all his trust into your planning and ideas, and he just nods, ready to go along with your plan. You turn off the main street, going onto one of the side ones. It’s still populated with shops, though it’s a little less crowded.

Leviathan allows himself to be pulled along with you, slowly swinging his arm back and forth as he holds your hand. He’s so preoccupied with the euphoria of being your pretty date and being out and about without being anxious and holding your hand-

He doesn’t notice where you’ve wound up until you tug his arm a little, telling him to look up.

His eyes first catch on the mannequins in the front of the store, in a display behind the glass. Then he notices what they’re wearing. Cute, frilly, lacy lingerie decorates each of the mannequins, draping and hugging across their bodies. His whole face goes red and you giggle.

“I wanna buy my baby girl something pretty,” You step in front of him and loosely wrap your hands around his waist, “But if you’re not comfortable we don’t have to go in.”

Again, just as when you’d given him the lingerie, he mulls it over in his head, rolling his words around in his mouth over his tongue and seeing how they feel, eyes scouring across the display mannequins before finally giving a shy little nod and squeezing your hand a little. With a pleased smile, you slowly lead him into the store.

The inside of the store is pretty dark, and it’s reasonably high end, but not so much so that employees would bombard the two of you to try to get your sizes or overwhelm Levi or anything of the sort. The workers who do come to help, you easily dismiss with a “we’re fine, thank you,” and you let Leviathan explore the store, with you tagging along behind him.

He skims past a lot of the more reveling lingerie, walking through the shop before eventually landing on a display filled with babydolls. The top is lacy and white, then sheer panels of fabric cover the midsection of the mannequin, with the bottoms being a lacy pair of panties. The one that’s caught Leviathan’s eye seems to be one of the more simple ones. Your arm rests gently across the small of his back as you observe what he’s looking at.

“That one seem good?” You ask. “I think you’d look so good in that.” You look and take up one that would fit him, holding it up to his body. “It’s so nice and light, all the hickeys and bites I leave on you would show up so nicely underneath it.”

Leviathan gives a heavy shiver at your purring, voice nodding,

“Y- yes, this one.” The idea of being marked up by you has him using every inch of his willpower to not get hard in his panties. “I wanna wear this one for you.”

“Wonderful, I’ll get this one for you, then!” You say with a grin that looks far too innocent for Leviathan’s liking. You skip over to the check out counter. While you’re handling that, Leviathan is looking around the store. Contrary to what he’d expected, nobody is giving him any strange looks or anything, mostly just going about their own business without so much as a glance in his direction. You return and- for the sake of Leviathan’s dignity- slide the new lingerie into his bag with the other things he got, rather than using one of the pretty, recognizable bags from the store.

You finally start to make your way towards the House, timing it so that you’ll make it there before anyone else is moving about the house. The second Leve crosses the boundary of the House’s entryway, you can visibly see his nervousness start to creep back into his body. Ushering him quickly into your room, you shut the door behind you and see him relax with a deep sigh.

“Hah, we made it,” He says, relieved. Looking around the room, he delicately takes the wig off and sets it on the desk you have. “I was getting a little warm in that but the rest of this is surprisingly comfortable!” He gives you a cute little twirl. “I was worried I’d start to hate it halfway through.”

The way your eyes track his hips- dipping under his skirt to catch a glimpse of his ass covered by his panties when he gives a twirl- does not go unnoticed by him. The second his eyes follow to see where yours are looking, his hands fly down to hold the hem of his skirt down with a scandalized gasp.

“You’re such a perv!” He barks, though you can hear the amused tones of his laughter underneath his words. His face is a heated pink, but he’s still got a shy smile on his lips. You set your own bag down and approach Leviathan, grabbing onto his hips and pulling him close to you.

“I’m sure I’m allowed to be a bit pervy when I’ve got such a cute girl on my hands.” One of your hands slips back and gives his ass a squeeze, eliciting a sharp yelp from him.

“W-we’re back home, you don’t, y’know, you don’t have to keep calling me that.” His brow is creased and he looks away as he speaks. You tilt your head, putting on a false face of innocent confusion.

“Hm? But I thought you liked it?” You say sweetly, then dropping your voice back down to a knowing, teasing purr, “I know you liked it an awful lot when we were outside, and now that we’re in private, I wanna see you get hard in your pretty little panties.” You smooth your hand over the round curve of his ass, giving it another squeeze. Your hand slips under his skirt, coming to his front and down to his panties. You stroke the pads of your fingers against his vent, just slowly stroking across the slit.

“Aahn-“ Levi offers up a shivery and a shaky moan as you feel his cocks emerge against your hand. You push your into his panties, slipping your middle finger against one side of his vent and your ring finger against the other so you can feel every ridge of his cocks being slipped out of his slit. You also feel the extreme amounts of the slick fluid that comes with, it’s absolutely soaking his panties and he gasps and squeezes his legs together as he feels the lubricant drip down along the inside of his thighs.

“Here,” You take the hem of his skirt and push it into his hands, “Hold this.” Before he can get a word in, you step back and snap a photo of him holding up his skirt, his upper cock tenting his panties while the other hangs out through one of the leg holes. You immediately put that photo into your password locked folder with the other picture you’d taken today.

“Pervert!” He yelps once he realizes, immediately pushing his skirt down and making the tent in it obvious.

“Aw, Levi,” You step back forward and kiss his neck softly, hardly just a press of your lips to the sensitive, heated skin, “I’m the only one who will ever see it, this lovely view is only for me. But if you really want, I’ll delete it.”

“Nnn-“ He squirms underneath your adoring touch, “No, you- uh, you can keep it.” He feels you smile against his neck.

“Good,” You kiss there, “My good girl,” A little nip makes him jolt, “My beautiful baby girl.” Your hand dips back down to his cocks. You go past his lengths, just beneath them, your middle finger nudging at the bottom of his vent. He jumps a bit.

You’ve experimented with this little place before. Event after he’s become erect and his cocks have come out of his vent, you’ve found that you can put your finger into his vent. It’s sensitive, and it always brings Leviathan to his climax incredibly quickly and it always humiliated Leviathan. Even so, he tilts his hips forward to allow your access to that little channel.

You slide your middle finger past the lips of his vent, into his channel and he immediately whines, legs shaking and knees threatening to buckle. His hands immediately fly up to grab onto your arms, burying his face in your shoulder. His entire body quivers with the effort of keeping himself standing and still as you ease in your finger to the second knuckle, stroking along his slick inner walls.

“S-So much! Ahhh!” He sobs into your shoulder as you push your finger in to the last knuckle. You feel him start to shakily mouth at and kiss your neck, desperate for something to keep his mouth occupied and prevent him from saying thing that would embarrass himself. “Close, so close,” He murmurs between kisses. Your hand strokes the back of his head and your finger inside him gently rubs his channel’s walls. He shudders, his grip on you tightening as he sobs into your skin. You suddenly feel his teeth against your skin as he bites down on you, his channel quivering around you while his cocks throb and absolutely soak the inside of his skirt with cum. He moans again and again, his sounds eventually petering off into whining cries before you finally allow him some respite and withdraw your hand.

“So cute, my good girl,” You let him pull back from you, big eyes filled with tears that have ruined his make up. He gives a little sniffle, looking away and then down at his skirt, so saturated with his cum that it’s sticking to his still erect cocks. “Do you want something in your pussy?” You ask as you slip your clean hand back to his ass and grope it. Leviathan yelps and jumps a bit, looking at you past his smudged mascara and eyeliner, giving you a shaky nod and sigh.

Fiddling with his hands, he approaches the bed and bends over, presenting his ass to you and reaching behind him to lift his skirt. Under his skirt, you see his ass hidden by the panties spread across him. Between his legs you see his cocks, both by now having slipped out through the leg hole of the flimsy underwear, cum dribbling down the inside of his thighs and dirtying the tops of his thigh high socks.  His skin is flushed, and past his hips you can see him turned to look over his shoulder at you, his eyes brimming with tears still and his face a bright, shameful red. You rush to remove your pants and underwear and put on your strap on, wanting nothing more than to see him screaming under you.

“H-Hurry up and- uh- come fill my pussy! Please?” He says, unsure of what he’s really even saying. You hide your amused smile as you secure the large, girthy toy on your strap on and approach him. You roughly grab a handful of his ass the second you’re within range to do so. Your fingers and nails dig into the soft flesh and he cries out.

“You want me to fill up your pussy? What a cute little thing,” You tug his panties down, “I didn’t think a pretty little girl would be making such slutty requests.” His pink little hole tightens around nothing and his cocks throb untouched between his legs at your words. He sobs and more tears roll down his cheeks.

“F-fuck me, Mistress! I need you to fuck me, please,” His voice trembles with his request, “I’ve been so- so needy all day, all day when I was out with you, I kept just thinking of this, please!”

“All day?” You purr, slicking your strap up with lubricant and lining it up with his fluttering hole, “You want it like this? No stretching? I’m sure your depraved little hole could take it, hm?” He just nods, lips drawn tightly shut but moans and whines still leaving his throat as he gently pushes his hips back, feeling the round head of your strap nudge at his hole but never quite breach it.

“All day, Mistress,” He mewls, “Every time some- somebody was jealous of us- I almost couldn’t stop the f-feeling. Even just thinking about it, I- hhhnn,” With a heavy shudder, his demon form overtakes him and his tail wraps possessively around your waist. Neediness and lust roil inside him as he rocks his hips back in the most lewd display you’ve ever seen him put on.

“Take it like the slut you are, then.”

With that, you surge your hips forward and sheath your strap inside him with a single shove. The reaction you get from your beautiful baby is priceless.

Leviathan screams a sound like he’s dying as his back arches like it’ll break and he throws his head back. His tail squeezes around you and his cocks throb, cum pouring out of him again as he hits his second orgasm for the night, hole spasming around the sudden intrusion and the pain of the stretch. One of his hands grabs the bed sheets while the other flies back to grab the wrist of your hand on his hip, squeezing tightly to ground himself to you. Your other hand reaches under him to stroke him through his orgasm.

“Pretty baby girl, your pussy’s so tight around me.” You hum, not even sure if he can hear you over his own yowling. Your hips give slow grinds as you work him through his climax, until he finally slumps down, limbless on the bed and panting hard.

“M-more,” His worn voice croaks. “Need more, Mistress, I have- have more to give, still need to cum more.” Despite his tired state, he still tries to hump back against you, body still jolting against his will in the aftershocks and sensitivity of his last climax. You press your hips flush against his before pulling back and beginning to fuck him in earnest.

“Maybe I should get a toy to plug that slutty mouth up,” You grab onto a horn and pull his head back while you lean forward and nuzzle into his neck, feeling him tense, “Maybe I’ll shove a nice, long toy down your throat? Watch it bulge. What a slut.” With that, your hand slips from his horn down to around his neck, gently holding it against his throat. You feel him swallow, and the vibrations of his voice as he groans hotly at the idea.

“N-not a slut,” He whimpers, looking down at the mattress as more tears fall from his eyes, “’M only yours, just yours.” His head is spinning with the pleasure he’s feeling, and you know that he’s past the point of overtly trying to say anything sexy, that he’s now just broken into speaking whatever comes across his mind.

“Oh, oh, baby.” Your hand releases his throat and strokes down the soft length of his back, coming to grab his ass again, “You are just mine.” A shiver runs through his body at that declaration.

“Just yours, just yours, only yours,” He chants, babbling whatever crosses his fucked out brain. “Filling up my pussy so- so good!” His words are interrupted by hitching breaths and sobs. You know exactly what he wants, you decide to humor him. You lean down and press your front to his back, one of your arms looping around his chest and holding you to him. The contact of his heated skin against yours make him whine.

“My good girl, such a pretty thing, your pussy’s so tight around me. You wanna cum again?” Your other hand jerks him off, “Cum again for me, baby girl, you deserve it, you did so well today.” He nods fervently.

Levi’s body shudders before tensing against you and wailing a garbled version of your name as he cums for the third time, body oversensitive and every nerve feeling like a livewire, but he wants nothing more than to please you and feel that same pleasure coursing through his own body. He’s long since run out of energy, body now just twitching involuntarily with each spurt of cum onto the bed. When he’s finally done, his whole frame goes limp and once you pull out and let go of him, he flops over onto his side.

“So good for me,” You kiss his jaw, then his cheek as you take off your strap, “Beautiful, you make such nice sounds and I love you so much.” You allow whatever you’re thinking to fall from your lips while your hands idly, slowly pet Leviathan’s body, just to make sure he knows- even through his blissed out mind- that you’re there. He can only make himself whine in response, just a soft pitiful noise to alert you that he’d heard you.

“When you’re good and ready we can get you cleaned up.” You refer to his messed up make up and cum soaked clothes. “I’m so happy that you enjoyed this, baby, I love you so much, I really hope I made this good for you.”

“So good.” He squeaks. You smile against his skin. Cleaning his skin and clothes and the bed sheets would come later. For now, all that matters is keeping Leviathan happy, and easing him back down. For now, you hold him against you until he comes back to his body enough to wrap his arms around you and purr, that lovely little sound that you’re so enamored by.

When he’s a tad more coherent, you start removing his clothes and setting them aside, immediately noting that with his coherency returning, his self consciousness does as well. You plant a little kiss to his bare shoulder,

“You’re beautiful even without the clothes and make up, Levi.” You say. He can’t quite wrangle the words to say, instead looking away from you with flushed cheeks. “I’ll make sure you know that.”

“…Promise?” His big orange eyes look up at you. You smile down at him,

“Promise, baby.”

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Kokichi Ouma x Female Reader - Love-Hate Relationship

Thank you to my patron/client! Kokichi is always fun to write

Summary: Kokichi starts to fall for the only person in the killing game who likes him. His best friend is always on his side and has true feelings for him both platonically and romantically, but will he ruin everything with his harsh words and lies?

Friends to Enemies back to Friends to Lovers LMAO - ANGST and FLUFF

Warnings: Vulgar Language, otherwise SFW - Admin Myah

Word Count: 5.1K words 

When it all began, people didn’t like Kokichi. (Y/N) found this little fact out quite quickly. It was quite obvious. He was loud, and obnoxious, and stubborn, and whiny, and a great many other negative adjectives one would use to describe, say… an elementary school student.

 But! … he was also a great many other amazingly fantastical things, such as cunning, intelligent, hilarious, perceptive, adorable. These were the things (Y/N) saw in him, these and a lot more endearing qualities, these things the others seemingly refused to see in him. Even the more intelligent and reasonable of her peers, such as the intuitive detective Shuichi Saihara or the studied anthropologist Korekiyo Shinguuji could admit Kokichi was intelligent, but not much else. (Y/N) didn’t understand it. She truly didn’t think Kokichi was all that awful. Why weren’t they seeing what she saw? From the moment they all arose, groggy and confused in that eerie gymnasium together she knew he would be something special, someone to watch. She had a gift for reading people like that: their souls, their intentions, their true talents.

 The two of them, in time, had even started to become friends where he had none, and she essentially became his only link to the rest of the students. It would often go something like this: 

 Kokichi would reveal something critical, something hidden or potentially deadly that they all must know.

Kokichi, being the stubborn ass that he was, would lie about the details, or the information altogether, switching facts around and embellishing the story with fictional bits and bites.

The other Ultimates would ignore him, call him a liar, engage in some petty squabble.

(Y/N) would vouch for the little lord of lying, and the group would reluctantly scrounge up enough good faith to believe the pair.

 In times like those, (Y/N) would often chastise the tiny tyrant, forever asking him why he couldn’t just play nice and help the group out of the kindness of his heart?

 There was always some nonsensical, facetious, nonchalant response.

 And without fail, the more outspoken students would try to talk some sense into (Y/N), asking her why she put up with him, why she even tried to get to know him, why she liked him.

 But it was no use, she was drawn to him, and there was no stopping or changing it. (Y/N) was always one to latch onto the people who piqued her interest, who plucked her heartstrings, be it romantically or platonically. She found herself enraptured by his mind at first, then his looks, then the way he spoke, and more specifically... the way he spoke to her. 

 Yes, despite what the others thought, she found herself always defending him, and then, she found herself falling for him.

 And he would never in his life admit it, but he was starting to fall for her, too. 

 When the killing game first started, the others thought of him as a brat, just a nuisance. They ignored him and at worst, they told him off like the annoying kid on the playground. Back then, she would still hang out with him, ignoring his teasing jabs or even jabbing back. He found himself surprised with her comebacks and playful insults at times. 

 She was always around, and would never abandon him, a fact he most definitely took advantage of, for when the first killing happened, when Rantaro was taken from them and the killing game transformed from a hypothetical danger into a very, very real one, people started doubting and turning on each other. At that moment, he also was transformed in their mind. He was no longer a brat, he was becoming a villain and potential threat. People were choosing sides, forming cliques, trios, duos, going solo, and so on. 

 And she was always on his side.

 When it came time for their terrified little class of ultimates to enter the trial grounds for the very first time, her podium was directly across from his, as if by fate. Kokichi didn’t believe too much in fate… but he didn’t mind getting a perfect view of her all trial long. He found out quickly that he may come to regret the placement, however, as it also gave her a perfect view of him, and she was no fool like the rest of them. She would watch his expressions, catch the smallest twitch of his lip or raise of his brow. Much like Shuichi, she was one of the only ones who could study his words and actions and weed out the lies… at least most of the time. She wasn’t afraid to call him out on it, and she knew the tone of his voice better than anyone else there. She was making it terribly difficult for him to confuse others, extend the trial, stir up some fun… and he liked that about her. Someone who could keep up with him was certainly not boring… and extremely attractive.

 Even with so many people against him, dismissing both his lies and truths, verbally attacking him, she would hear him out, and by the end of it all, the innocent got out alive. The thrilling and bone-chilling trial ended with a correct verdict. Without their teamwork, even with Shuichi’s genius, it may not have been so.

 With the first trial’s conclusion, Kokichi’d made up his mind to stop simply admiring her and actually get to enjoy that not-boring personality to the fullest. That’s the most he’d give her: that she wasn’t boring, unlike the rest of them. Grabbing her hand, he whisked her away to uncover the newest research labs that Monokuma’d allowed them access to. They inspected them all top to bottom, together as a team. They eventually would do this to every unlocked location in the academy, making short work of the campus while harassing each other, badgering and bantering, hurling insults the entire time. She was the only one he couldn’t exhaust. Just when he began to think it might be a tad bit more romantic to pull some punches for her sake, he discovered he didn’t have to. She’d punch back, and just as hard.

 In fact, he liked her so much, that when his poor classmates were subjected to the horrendous Insect Meet-and-Greet event, she was personally invited by Ouma himself, and not hauled over Gonta’s gentlemanly shoulders and carried, or worse, knocked the fuck out only to wake up surrounded by bugs.

 “How charming,” she teased, rolling her eyes as he stood in the frame of her dorm room’s door.

 “Yeah, you should feel pretty special! I wasted precious energy coming down here to ask you to come!” He exhaled loudly, far too proud of himself.

 “Well, as much as I’d love to be covered in roaches and piss myself when beetles attempt to crawl into every orifice on my body, I can’t. Again, love to, truly, but-”

 “Awwww! But we hang out every night! And you’re lying! You’re never busy you dirty, rotten, lying loser! Who else hangs out with you beside me?! What else do you have to do if it doesn’t involve me? Your life’s a yawn unless I plan your daily itinerary!” He huffed, crossing his arms with a small stomp of one foot. “Gosh, I hate liars!” He pouted.

 “Pout all you want, I’m not going to your bug fest. I hate bugs.”

 “Wait ‘til Gonta hears about your very controversial opinion!” Kokichi gasped, feigning absolute shock.

 “You wouldn’t...” her eyes widened, knowing instantly that she’d fucked up. He didn’t reply, but simply smirked, an evil, plotting, crooked grin creeping across his visage. She sighed deeply, head hanging in defeat.

 “Be my date?” He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers temptingly. Her head shot up, an uncomfortable, flustered warmth running through her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. He caught this immediately, as he caught most changes in the air, and his face twisted into an equally awkward expression for a split second before his brow furrowed and he snarled. “Hurry the fuck up, shithead! You know what I meant! Let’s go or I’m having Tarzan put your ass to sleep!” He spat, and she simply giggled, grabbing his hand before being pulled off.

 “Your date huh? I can’t think of anything I’d love more than some worms in my shoes.”

 ♡

 That morning when they awoke, Ryoma was gone, stolen away in what they assumed was either the night or the early morning. Kokichi was usually very much unfazed, desensitized to most shock and awe in life, but this time… it was different. He was upset, and visibly so, stomping around the crime scene like a child, brooding.

 It wasn’t the loss of a Ryoma, nor the gore and tragedy of the scene that had him so agitated, it was her reaction to it. (Y/N) wore her heart on her sleeve, and she wasn’t afraid to cry in front of others, so it was no surprise that she was in tears now. She’d cried over both Rantaro and Kaede’s deaths, but that was different. Kaede was a girl, and he didn’t care about (Y/N) enough back when Rantaro was killed to be jealous of her tears, but now… he was practically green.

 (Y/N) had actually been pretty close with Ryoma. Like she did with most people, she dug past Ryoma’s appearance and the story he wanted everyone to know, and what she found was a pretty amazing guy. She wasn’t as close to him as she was to Kokichi, but still…

 These weren’t tears of horror from seeing a dead body, or of witnessing a young person’s life cut short. They were tears of mourning the loss of a close friend, and Kokichi was positively boiling.

 By the time he’d managed to cool himself down while effectively hiding his meltdown from the rest of them, (Y/N) had wandered off to start the investigation and avenge her friend with Shuichi. Yeah no, that wasn’t going to happen. She was quickly swept away to start their own little search party. The two of them, the way it was supposed to be. Of course, he would never say all of these embarrassing thoughts aloud. He’d make up some stupid excuse for why she just had to come with him. But it wasn't personal, and he didn’t care about her.

 He didn’t

 He. Didn’t.

 Did he...?

 ♡

 When it came time for the second trial, Kokichi made sure to make fun of (Y/N), calling her a crybaby, mocking her “endless blubbering” and all the valuable time she wasted doing it. He tried desperately, now at war with his own heart and values, to convince himself she was nothing to him, that she was just another pea-brained opponent in this death game, that she was a source of entertainment at best, and nothing else.

 “Shut the fuck up, Miu, nobody wants to hear that gross shit! Cream your pants later!” (Y/N) spoke across the circle to the blonde exhibitionist with a scowl on her face. Miu, in response, shriveled and whined. Kokichi couldn’t help but crack a smile. That was one of the things he loved about (Y/N), how she put people in their place.

 What?! Shit, no! Not loved… I mean she was cool, but... not - his mind raced, trying to shake himself back to the place he wanted to be. Shit!

 The trial went on, and with every word she worsened the self-made conflict within him.

 “How could you say that Kaito?!” (Y/N) howled at the Ultimate Astronaut, who was taken aback by her anger. Kokichi, too, found himself taken aback. Kaito was the “good guy”, the macho action hero, the protagonist’s best friend. While many called Kaito names, dismissed his ridiculous ideas, and even told him he was plain stupid and wrong at times, no one ever truly challenged the trusted hero duo that was Shuichi and Kaito, and certainly not with such unbridled anger. “You must have no idea what it’s like to go through depression, to not see the point in living anymore! How dare you speak ill of Ryoma?! How dare you say he used to be your hero?!” She knew what it was like, those dark thoughts Ryoma must’ve been having for years.

 Kokichi watched her, like a spitfire, a firecracker. He forgot all about his decision to let her go, to stop interacting with her altogether after today, and couldn’t help being pulled in. They spent the rest of the trial working as they usually did: together, as a team. He spoke up more, and they teased each other, flirting harmlessly and carrying on.

 And the others were starting to notice…

 “Man, can’t you two save it for when you’re alone?! Damn! I can practically see you undressing each other with your eyes, bleh!” Miu gagged before letting out one of her infamous cackles. (Y/N)’s face ran hot, instinctively leaning back on her podium. Her bottom lip caught itself between her teeth, at a loss for words as she met Kokichi’s gaze.

 “Yeah right, as if! I’d love to be discussing with literally anyone else here but you guys all have the personality of dirty pond water…” Kokichi sighed defensively, looking at his nails as if Miu’s words meant nothing to him. 

 (Y/N) knew how he was, she knew harsh words and lies were his coping mechanism, but she couldn’t help the way her shoulders sunk.

 ♡

 Despite her hurting heart, when Kokichi - the shit-stirrer that he was - revealed Maki’s truth to the group after Kirumi’s execution, (Y/N) was the only one to throw herself between them, prying Maki’s hands from her best friend’s throat.

 “Fuck, now she’s out here tryna die for this asshole!” Miu crowed. “HA HA! They’re definitely fuckin’!” She held her stomach, practically in tears from her laughing fit.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” (Y/N) pushed past the crowd, tired of them, tired of the humiliation, tired of Kokichi, tired of all of it. She left the trial room, running all the way and not stopping until she was locked up in her room.

 After the public embarrassment and Kokichi’s heartless dismissal of their… complicated relationship, maybe….

Maybe now it was her turn to cut him off.

 ♡

Days passed and she refused to see him. She stayed locked up in her room at night and avoided him during the day, well... avoided him as best she could. Kokichi wasn’t one to be ignored if he didn’t want to be. He persisted, harassing and tracking her around, begging her to talk to him, to play, to prank others with him, to investigate the new research labs, but she simply pretended he wasn’t there. It hurt, it really hurt to shut him out, but to go on with him acting like she didn’t matter in public and then deciding she did in private hurt even worse. Her loyalty could only go so far. She wouldn’t allow him to mess with her heart any longer… or so she thought.

 ♡

Hours before the third trial was to commence, (Y/N) found herself outside of Korekiyo’s research lab when what looked like a walking corpse stumbled by. She cried out, running over to a dazed Kokichi, bumbling about light-headed and pale, with fresh blood running freely down his head.

 “Kokichi!” Her feelings be damned! She couldn’t just sit there and watch him suffer or worse. Who knew how much blood he’d already lost? Crazed with worry, she threw his arm over her shoulder, looking around frantically wondering why no one else had noticed him yet.

 The answer was simple: no one else cared. They probably had noticed and simply written him off. (Y/N) pouted, contemplating leaving him there… she was supposed to be mad at him.

 “Ohhhhh… gah! ...Damn you, Kokichi!” How did he keep doing this? How was he worming his evil little ass into her heart again and again?! She began dragging him down the stairs and toward the dorms. The investigation would have to wait.

“(Y-Y/N)...?” Kokichi mumbled in his ditzy state. “Hoo hoo! I thought we weren’t talkin’?!” He nearly tumbled from her arms, weak and wobbly.

 “Oh, shut up, asshole!” (Y/N) growled, nearing the dormitory area and pulling him into her room.

 ♡

 “Man, that sucked!” Kokichi sat leaned against the glass of the sliding shower door in the small personal offshoot bathroom attached to her small dorm room. A cold washcloth sat covering his forehead, wetting the messy strands of his long bangs.

 “Tell me again why you didn’t just call for help once you realized how badly you were bleeding?” (Y/N) made small talk, wringing out the soiled rag she’d initially used to clean him off. He took a swig of some icy bottled water she’d provided and glowered, his bottom lip out in contemplation.

 “ ‘Cause I didn’t think anyone would come…” he spoke flatly, exhausted with the loss of blood and shittiness of it all. She froze, turning to him.

 “I’m sorry…” she sighed, replacing the washcloth on his head with some gauze that she started to gently wrap around the rather deep wound.

 “You should be! Hmpf!” He crossed his arms and she pulled on the gauze sharply, tightly constricting the oozing sore. “Shit!”

 “Don’t start, dickhead. You’re lucky I’m choosing to forgive you!” She chided. He shot her a dirty look, and for moments they sat in silence.

 “... For a moment I thought you hated me… like the rest of them,” he finally spoke up, any amount of silence torturous to his child-like psyche. She felt her heart sink.

 “... I could never.” She smiled softly, fighting off a nagging frown that threatened to present itself. Before he could make this even more awkward, she stood, taking control of the situation. “Okay, I’ll be right back, you stay right here. I don’t want you passing out again.” She took off, closing the bathroom door and sneaking away into the main room.

 Shuffling through her closet and by extension her Monokuma-provided wardrobe, she peeled off first her shirt then her uniform’s skirt, both now completely ruined by dark patches of Kokichi’s blood, her reward for carrying his sorry ass all the way here. Now in only her underwear, she reached for a replacement uniform and wandered over to her bedside table for her deodorant and some facial wipes. As she wiped the grime and sweat from the crevices of her oily face, the bathroom door slid open with an impatient force behind it.

 “I’m boooooooored-”

 “Ahh!” She screeched, rushing to cover herself up before she could even process what was happening, but the only things nearby were her comforter and intricate uniform.

 “Oh, God! Why are you naked?!” Kokichi hollered, his face turning beet red. (Y/N) pulled the comforter up and around her body, her uniform falling from the bed.

 “I told you to wait there!” Her cheeks felt engulfed in flames, the skin all over her body hot and her feathers effectively ruffled.

 “You didn’t say why! You didn’t say you were doing a strip show in here!” He retorted, covering his eyes with one arm, more for her to save face than out of his own desire.

 “Get out! Just get out!” She screamed, tears pricking her eyes.

 “But-!”

 “Now!!” Full of a genre of rage he almost never felt, he conceded, stomping out of her room without another word.

 (Y/N) fell to her bed, screaming into her pillow like nobody’s business. She felt ashamed, mortified, infuriated. Why, for once, couldn’t he just listen?! Her body was never something she was confident in or proud of, and now, to have him, the guy she had feelings for see her like that, and not only practically naked, but caught off guard… it was as more than she could handle.

 ♡

 The trial room was relatively quiet that afternoon. The usual suspects were chatting, defending themselves, accusing others. Shuichi was having a pretty smooth trial - a blessing in his eyes - with Kokichi not giving him an easier time than usual. When he did speak, it was his usual lies, with an underlying irritated tone, but he never spoke a word to (Y/N), and (Y/N) hardly spoke at all. After some time, someone addressed the elephant in the room… err, other than the murders, that is…

 “Soooo, uh…” Kaito, courageous as always, spoke out, “(Y/N), you awake over there? We could use some help to, you know, find the culprit so we don’t all bite it?” He was only somewhat gentle with his words, having already made up with her after the last trial’s argument, but anxious over the current situation. “Shuichi and I can’t handle this on our own! You usually have a lot to say!”

 “I resent that comment, Kaito, as I believe I help plenty, but yes,” Kiibo rolled his metallic eyes to the sky, ever focused on the current goal, “you do usually have more to say, (Y/N). We could really use another opinion here.”

 “Something wrong with (Y/N)?” Gonta, always concerned for his friends’ feelings inquired, brows furrowed in concern.

 “Hah!” Miu spat. “Of course something’s wrong! Haven't you noticed that little prick over there ain’t feedin’ us his bullshit nearly as much as neither?!” She pointed at Kokichi before placing a haughty hand on her hip. “He probably slipped her his little prick, and it was so tiny she was turned off for good! Probably can’t even speak, she’s so disappointed! Hella awkward!” She roared. Everyone exchanged the familiar looks of disgust or scorn that came after one of Miu’s outbursts, and as (Y/N) opened her mouth to defend them both, she was cut off.

 “More like the other way around!” Kokichi hurled Miu’s statements right back in her face, his knuckles crunching down on his podium with a vice-like grip. “After I saw her naked earlier, I was the one leaving with a softie!” He growled, his frustrations, self-loathing, and need to be in control and defend himself all culminating in these toxically destructive words.

 A few audible gasps were heard in the room, a few laughs from Monokuma and his remaining offspring, and the more mature students such as Maki and Shuichi simply sighing in exhaustion, wondering why they kept getting off track with useless information. (Y/N) felt her knees almost buckle.

 No. Not this time! She heard her mind shout at her heart, and she slammed her hands down on her podium, all embarrassment melting into pure rage.

“YOU- GOD!” An encore slam down onto the flat metal, “You FUCKING asshole! That’s not what happened you goddamn fucking LIAR, and you know it!” Her voice was hoarse with the force of it.

 “Uh oh! Struck a ner-” Miu began to speak.

 “You shut the fuck up!” (Y/N) pointed to the busty instigator before directing her venomous ire back at Kokichi, who refused to look her in the eyes. “I did everything to help you after your dumb ass fell through the fucking floor, and this is how I’m repaid?! I do everything with you and for you, and this is how you treat me?! Why do you always sit here and lie to these people about us?! Fucking shithead fucking-” she was struggling for words, holding back tears. “You tell them the truth, that I had your blood all over me from patching you up because no one else likes your sorry ass! Everyone else would’ve left you passed out on the floor or worse dead from blood loss or killed by the culprit who seems to be on a fucking spree!” She gestured wildly, talking with her hands. “You walked in on me changing my bloody clothes! It was your fault! Just like it’s your fault that you have one fr-” her voice broke, and she looked to her feet. “No friends. Fuck you… Shuichi just finish the fucking trial we all know who the culprit is.” She looked down the rest of the trial, saying nothing, hearing nothing, just a ringing in her ears.

 “This is reeeeeeal fuckin’ awkward and I hate it here,” Miu cooed, rubbing her hands together.

 ♡

 As soon as the trial was over, Kokichi, feeling the weight of his best friend’s words, searched high and low for her. The campus was huge with many places to hide, but he knew her well, and he knew her favorite spots. He checked the AV room, library, casino, her research lab, and her room first, then everywhere else, asking anyone he came across about her whereabouts.

“Dude you messed up, even by your standards,” Kaito demeaned with a righteous fist in the air.

“I think it’s completely reasonable that she would not want to speak with you,” Kiibo sighed.

“Kokichi, you probably really hurt her. Just let her be, that’s the right thing to do,” Shuichi offered guidance even to the worst of his peers any time he could.

“Why are you speaking to me?” Maki walked away.

♡

At long last, finding himself in the basement after wallowing around the school for a while, he opened the door to the AV room for some space and privacy, seeing as it was rarely used since Rantaro’s death. He gasped.

 “(Y/N)!” She turned from her position reading on the little couch, startled, and immediately turned back upon seeing the owner of the voice. He closed the door behind him, shuffling over with his tail between his legs. Quickly, before she could notice, he forced a rather convincing peppy voice. “The heck?! I already checked here!” She knew that. She’d been there earlier, and left when she heard he was making the rounds only to return later, but she didn’t say as much now. “Soooo? Whatcha readin’?” He grinned, plopping down on the floor beside her seated position on the couch. She didn’t respond, didn’t change her expression, and merely kept reading. “C’mon!!! Reading’s boring!!! Well,” he tapped his finger on his lip pensively “not always! But your taste in books is! Let’s at least go find some good shit to read together!” She had not the mental or physical energy, the want nor the need to banter with him. As far as she was concerned, this… whatever it was, was over. 

 Kokichi sighed, taking the hint to stop talking but not the hint to leave her the fuck alone. She would not physically kick him out, he knew this, and it seemed she wouldn’t do it verbally either. It was safer not to be alone, she rationalized in her mind… well, only if the group knew who was paired up and when, but he would never hurt her… physically. And she would never hurt him. And so, Kokichi resolved to sit there, just sit there and stare: at the ceiling, at her, at his thumbs. After the first thirty minutes he began to make pretend snow angels on the ground with his arms and legs flopping together and apart. He lapped around the room a few times, looked through the DVD options, sat with her on the couch, moved closer, then further, then closer, back and forth trying to get some reaction. Usually he could at least annoy someone into paying attention to him. Even negative attention was still attention. She was never like this with him. This was bad… he could feel his selfish little heart ache.

 An hour passed, and then another. She’d picked up a sketch pad she’d stored in the couch cushions, doodled, changed books, and now was reading again. He’d begun running his fingers up and down her thigh, making explosion and car noises when he hit her knee. And finally, he spoke.

 “You know, you’re super brave to be down here alone, you know... before I got here I mean… or at all really. Place is spooky… haunted since Rantaro got murked. No one comes down here but you. Surprised you’re down here… but I guess you always are.” He could feel the stone wall she’d put up between them. “You know, it kinda sucks, that we lost Rantaro…”

 “...and Ryoma, and Tenko, and Kirumi, Angie, Kiyo, Kaede…” she spoke up, irritated by his flippance. “Don’t forget them like they don’t matter.” He twiddled his thumbs in response.

 “At least you didn’t die…” he tapped on the back of the book you were reading, making the pages shake before her eyes.

 “Like you’d care if I did,” she replied without hesitation.

 “I woooooould,” he pulled at her sleeve like a toddler aching to be picked up.

 “I’m ugly. I’m fat and hideous and a turn off and just disgusting, right? So who cares if I die?” She spoke like she was reciting a grocery list: monotone, uninterested.

 “Well… I can still care about ugly people…” he batted his eyelashes innocently. The look she shot him told him she was not in the mode for jokes. “B-but, you’re not ugly! You’re way hotter than Maki or Miu or any other hag here! I just said all that stuff to catch Miu off guard! It was all a lie!” He was getting nervous now, sitting upright beside her on the couch.

 “That is not an apology,” she rebuked.

 “Aww come on, forgive me!” He collapsed, resting face down on her stomach and stretching his body out on the cushions behind him. “You’re my best friend…” His words were muffled, but she could make them out still. “You’re more than that…” her ears perked up, and she began to hear sniveling. Slowly, a wetness began to seep through her shirt onto her abdomen.

 Was he…?

 She placed a single hand on the back of his black locks and ran her fingers through the messy mop. The other placed the book on the floor then joined the other. For a few peaceful moments they sat silently while she stroked his scalp and played with the waves.

 “I’m sorry…” an apology came through his sniffles, but he would not lift his head up, never in a million years would someone see him cry genuine tears.

 “I can’t hear you,” she lied, something she learned from him. A devious smirk he could not see crossed her lips.

 “Yes you can!” Muffled frustration vibrated her tummy.

 “Well since I can’t hear you anyway this conversation is ov-”

 His head shot upward, a snarl crossing his red, moist, puffy face. He pulled his knees up, leaning forward with all his weight

And pressed his lips deeply into hers.

[dragon-kazansky]

Familiar stranger | Helmut Zemo

Requested by @realremyd

Female Reader!

The moment is eyes had landed on you, so many things happened at once. He zoned out Sam and Bucky, he took a step away from you, his heart seemed to clench in his chest, and all he could think was 'it can't be.'

Right there in front of him was the spitting image of his wife. Well, maybe not exactly, but you did hold such a resemblance to her. It was like she was right there with him again.

You were looking at him. The others too, but it was you he found hard to look away from.

"Who are you?" He asks, needing to know if his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Y/N."

A sigh of relief escaped him. Was he relieved though?

He was obviously making you uncomfortable with the way he was looking at you, so he turned his head away. Yet, your presence felt loud. He would never be able to look at you without seeing her.

It got worse.

In Madripoor you were required to wear a disguise. You were the last to come out in the clothes he had got for you, and once again he was struck by the sight of his wife.

Often they would both dress up and go out for the evening. The outfit he had chosen, though he wasn't sure if this was intentional or not, really made you resemble her all the more.

He couldn't take it.

Zemo avoided all eye contact with you. He focused his attention on the boys, finding it easier that way. Even when he stated your role in this he wouldn't look directly at you.

You wondered if you had done something to offend him, which kind of hurt. You always did your best to get on with anyone you worked with, but obviously that wasn't happening here.

Perhaps it was best to stay out of his way.

Things took a turn: a bounty was placed on your heads because of the death of Selby, all of Madripoor was coming for you, and Sharon popped out of nowhere to rescue you.

Back at her place, you changed into something less flashy. You wanted to tone down the outfit a bit and wear something a little more you.

Zemo couldn't help thinking that you looked much better this way. Though he still saw his wife's face, you looked more like you. You suited you.

Down in the club it was easy to avoid you. Zemo blended into the crowd... kind of, and you stuck to the other side, enjoying your own time here.

You left before all of them.

When the boys left the club and went back upstairs, they found you sleeping on the sofa. You had kicked off your shoes and, obviously, made yourself comfortable.

He couldn't look away.

Zemo sat down near by and looked at you. This was a good chance to look at you without making you uncomfortable.

"How can you look so much like her, yet be so different too?" He whispered the question.

Not really realising what he was doing, he tucks some hair away from your face. You can't possibly be all that comfortable or warm here. Not wanting to overstep any boundaries by carrying you to your room, he gently lifts your head enough to put a cushion under it. He then grabs his coat and drapes it over you gently.

He leaves you to sleep in peace.

You wake up rather slowly. You had been extremely tired when you got back last night. You had enough fun in the club and excused yourself, passing Bucky on the way out.

You sit up. The coat falls from your shoulders and into your lap.

Zemo's coat.

You blink away any tiredness to examine it, running your fingers across the fur. It was soft.

Why did you have his coat?

It dawned on you that he must have out it there himself. No one else would touch it otherwise.

It smells like him.

You look up when you hear someone approaching. It's the man himself. He stops like a deer in headlights when your eyes meet his. Before he can turn around and leave, yoy call out to him.

"Wait!"

He stays standing, looking at you curiously. It still hurts to look at you, but your voice is so much different, it makes him remember who he is looking at.

"Thank you."

He looks at the way you're holding his coat. The way your have a hand resting over the fur collar, clearly finding the feel of it satisfying.

For some reason that pleased him.

"You're welcome."

You smile. It's not her smile. It's your smile. He likes it.

You stand up and hold his coat carefully, taking the utmost care in handling it. You held it out to him when you stopped a little closer to him.

He takes it. His eyes never leave you. This is the longest he has looked at you at any one moment.

You're still smiling.

"I have to ask," you begin, "have I done something to offend you?"

His lips part ever so slightly as be tilts his head a tiny bit.

"Offend me?"

"Yes. This is the most you've looked at me since we met. You don't really talk to me and you seem to avoid me when possible." You gaze down at the floor.

He can hear the disappointment in your voice. He can see the way your hands fidget in front if you.

It seemed to really bother you that he was avoiding you.

"It's nothing you have done."

You look at him with concern.

"Something I've said?" Not that you've spoken to him much.

"No."

"Then, please, tell me how I can fix whatever this is. I would quite like for us to get along while we work together," you were pretty much pleading with him.

He clutches his coat, but you don't seem to notice.

"You remind me of my wife."

The way your head shoots up to look at him tells him he caught your attention. There was no going back now.

"You look so much like her and I can't take it," he whispers. "It is not your fault at all, but I cannot look at the face of someone I loved and failed greatly."

You're at a loss for words.

"But I know you're not her. The way you speak, the way you dress, the way you look when you're sleeping soundly... that's all you."

You stand there quietly.

"If you'll excuse me." He turns on his heel and leaves the room.

Helmut doesn't speak to you at all at the dock. He ignores you further on the plane to Latvia. You find yourself looking at him a lot more, but he doesn't even glance your way.

When you arrive at the safe-house, you immediately seek out a bedroom and try to stay out of everyone's way.

Sam comes to look for you. He can see something has happened and he's concerned it's a problem.

"Y/N? Open up."

You open the door to him.

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?" You ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Between you and Zemo. You're ignoring each other more than usual. If this is going to be a problem, I think we should at least talk about it."

"I think it's best I tap out now. You still need Zemo, right?" You ask, avoiding his eyes.

"Possibly, but not for much longer. Why? What's happened?"

"I think I'm making it difficult for him. He told me, back in Madripoor, that I look a lot like his wife and I think it's hard for him to look at me. I don't want to be the reason the job fails."

Sam wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his side.

"That's not going to happen. If you want to stay here, I'm sure that's fine, but just know we could really use your help."

"I think I'll stay here. You can call me if you need me."

"Alright, we're not going anywhere just yet, so you'll have to deal with Zemo being around a little longer."

"I know."

Sam gave you a slight squeeze and left you in peace. Zemo was waiting downstairs when he returned. The Baron was kind of disappointed to find that Sam was alone.

You were avoiding him too. He supposed he deserved that.

"How is she?"

"Fine. She'll probably stay in her room for a while. She's decided to stay back for now, so we'll be dealing with the Flag Smahsers without her," Sam explained.

Zemo didn't mean for that to happen.

There was another knock at your door. You called for them to enter, expecting it to be Bucky coming to see you, but it wasn't.

"Oh, Zemo."

He closed the door behind him and walked over to you, but still maintained a comfortable distance between you.

"You're not coming with us?"

"Thought it would be better if I didn't tag along any more. They need you more than me right now," you speak softly, playing with the corner of your pillow next to you.

You hear Zemo sigh gently. The mattress sinks down next to you as he sits down.

"They need you too."

You shrug.

"I didn't mean for you drop out of the mission. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No. I'm glad you did. I feel better knowing the reason why you can't look at me."

"Who's not looking now?"

You look up. His dark gaze is on you. He had been looking at you from the moment he entered the room.

He smiles.

"Won't it be difficult working with me if I'm there? I'm worried I'll jeopardise the whole thing."

He reaches out and he takes your hand.

"No. I did some thinking on the plane. I've spent too much time living in my past already, I won't let you back out of the plan because of my foolishness. I had no idea it would bother you so much that I was avoiding you." He gives your hand a little squeeze.

"I'm surprised too, you know. It kind of bothered me that you wouldn't even talk to me unless absolutely necessary."

"Apologies. I am a fool."

"No, you're not," you chuckle softly.

The smile he gives you sets the butterflies off in your stomach.

"Who is it you see now?" You ask, whispering.

"You. Just you."

You bite your lip shyly and shuffle a little closer.

"Then, I changed my mind. You'll have to put up with me when we go get the bad guys."

Zemo laughs.

"Poor me."

You rest your head against his shoudler. You don't know what it is about him, but there was something there that made you want to know him. If he would let you, you wanted to get closer to him.

Even if his freedom was short lived.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna

[voiceless-terror]

And Many Happy Returns

a sequel (or companion piece) to Inseparable, my childhood friends AU. chapter 1 of 2.

“Next week?” Jon shrieks, slamming a hand down on his desk and startling the nearby students. “That’s not nearly enough time to prepare!”

Martin does that blinky-eye thing that means Jon’s being too loud, but he can’t help it! Martin’s turning eight in six days (less than a week!) and didn’t think to tell him. They’re best friends, he should know these things. He curses himself for not asking about this at the beginning of their relationship, when he was collecting Martin facts. Favorite color and book seemed more important at the time. 

And while Jon doesn’t think birthdays are that important, it’s still a fact he ought to have known. Well, his Nan doesn’t consider birthdays important. These past two birthdays he’s gotten one new (!) book and a dessert after dinner, but that’s about it. Nan doesn’t have money to spend on frivolous things, and Jon’s never needed much, but he wouldn’t mind a bit of fanfare. His mum always made sure he felt very loved- he got plenty of hugs, a fun cake, an outing where they would do his favorite things. But maybe that’s something only mums do. Nan, with her rare, stiff hugs and general stand-offishness was never one to put up much of a fuss.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Martin mutters, his pencil twitching in his hand as he refuses to meet Jon’s eyes. He doesn’t like it when Jon starts fretting about him. “We never do anything for it, anyway.”

Martin’s mum isn’t anything like Jon’s, that’s for sure. It’s not every day you turn eight. It’s a nice number, very even and divisible. Much better than boring old seven. When Jon turns eight, he’s going to get fifteen extra minutes added to his curfew, and he’ll be able to walk to the corner store all by himself. He’s already walked there several times, but it’ll be nice to have permission. That’s the real treat.

“So you’re not going to bring in cupcakes for the class?” he asks, remembering the last birthday they celebrated- it was Lydia’s, a quiet, unassuming girl that Jon doesn’t mind but also doesn’t think much about. As soon as Jon asks it, Martin gets that sad look in his eyes again, the kind that’s always followed by an “I’m sorry” or something equally nonsensical. Jon hates that he’s the cause of it, him and his stupid mouth. Think before you speak, that’s what Nan always says. She says that for most anything he talks about, though, so he takes her advice with a grain of salt.

He reaches out to pat Martin’s arm consolingly, giving him his best sympathetic head tilt. “It’s alright. I’ve never brought any in either. Just thought I’d check in case you needed help bringing them to school.” Jon’s not very good at carrying things, but for Martin he would make an attempt.

“That’s nice of you,” Martin replies, though it’s not really nice, it’s just a normal thing a friend would do. Jon’s read books about it, he ought to know. “But yeah. I don’t think Mum’s planning anything, much less making cupcakes. She’s really busy.” Martin’s always saying how busy his Mum is, but Jon’s pretty sure she doesn’t do half the things around the house that she’s supposed to. Martin already knows how to cook and make tea and do the laundry without hurting himself. It’s very admirable. The last time Jon attempted to do laundry, he flooded the cellar.

“Do you like cupcakes, though?” Jon asks, scooching closer to Martin’s desk. “Lydia’s mum brought some for her birthday, but they were all carrot cake. Blegh.” He makes an exaggerated face to get Martin to laugh. It works.

“Carrot cake’s not so bad,” Martin says, poking lightly at Jon’s hand with the eraser of his pencil. Jon flinches back dramatically, putting on his most wounded look. “You just don’t like it cause it has the word carrot in it.”

“I don’t like it cause it has actual carrots in it,” Jon sniffs, turning away from Martin to show his displeasure. He decides not to talk to him for the rest of the day, or at least until he has something else to say to him. He’s got a lot on his mind now, and he needs to be left alone with his thoughts. Besides, Martin will poke him again once he gets bored enough. 

Jon flips open the school planner that he’s never used for actual school work and starts to write. He’s got a birthday to plan, and he’s going to give Martin a Mrs. Sims birthday special.

______

It’s a Thursday, which means Martin can’t play on account of his many, many chores. Jon hates Thursdays.

But this time it works in his favor, as he’ll actually have time to plan without Martin thinking something’s up. Jon very rarely cancels on Martin; he’s his most important (and only) friend. But he does on occasion get a little mixed up. One time, he thought it was a Wednesday instead of Thursday, and wound up at Martin’s flat when he didn’t show up at the park. Martin was very nice about it, though, and gave him a cup of tea to ‘calm down’ to drink in the hallway, before he went home. Martin thinks a cup of tea is calming. It doesn’t really do much for Jon, but it is tasty, and Martin gives him extra sugar just the way he likes.

But today is most definitely a Thursday so he scurries on home, slamming the door open and screaming a greeting to Nan that goes unanswered.  She must be off at the shops, otherwise she’d be giving Jon an earful for being too loud. He kicks off his shoes and gazes at the picture of him and his mum on the wall. If his mum were here, she would know exactly what to do to make Martin’s birthday extra-special. But she’s not, and Martin’s mum seems like kind of a jerk, so it’s Jon’s responsibility. “I won’t let you down,” he solemnly tells her smiling face, and turns to take the steps two at a time.

After grabbing his planner and throwing his backpack into the corner,  he pulls out the chair to his messy homework desk, which is usually only used for doodling or writing stories or reading when he wants the activity to feel more official. He flips open his planner to next Wednesday, Martin’s birthday (!!!) and taps his pen impatiently against the page. 

What do birthdays need? Food. Presents. Happiness. The first two might be a bit difficult to pull off, considering his lack of money and cooking skills. Martin deserves a lot more than stale discount biscuits from the grocery. He can get those any day.

But a whole cake is going to be hard. If Nan won’t make one for Jon on his birthday, she most certainly won’t do it for ‘his little friend,’ even if she thinks he’s a good influence. Martin is always very quiet and polite when he sees her, and Nan always gives him a smile in return for his good manners. She doesn’t smile at Jon like that. He tamps down his jealousy and gets back to birthday thoughts.

He thinks he had a purple- or was it pink? - cake on his fifth. It saddens him that he can’t remember. He thinks he’d forget his own mother’s face if he didn’t look at it every morning and night. Memory’s fickle like that, as his Nan likes to say.

Maybe, if he’s very nice and good tonight, Nan will take him with her on the weekly shop and he can convince her to get Martin a cupcake, a good one. One that doesn’t have any carrots in it, even if Martin says they’re alright. He must like them so much because they’re orange, like his hair. Unsurprising. 

He stops wiggling in his chair and straightens his back, as if Nan can see him in his room right now. It’s good to practice, he thinks. If he can sit still all through dinner and not make a mess, she’ll come round. 

Next, an essential part of any birthday: a good present.

His mum never really showered him with gifts, but she always gave him something good, something from the heart. The last present he received - Augustus, an orange cat plushie- still sits on his bed. It’s kind of babyish to sleep with a stuffed animal at his age (or so Marcus declared during recess one day) but Jon doesn’t really care. It helps him sleep.

Unfortunately, Jon can’t buy Martin a stuffed cat. He doesn’t have much money except for what he’s found on the ground and in sofa cushions. And he’s supposed to give that to Nan if he finds it (which he does, mostly).

He could be creative. Make him something. Jon’s not very good at crafts, though. And he doesn’t have a lot of supplies. But he has almost a week to figure something out, minus the times he’s playing with Martin. Well, even then he can stare at him and hope it jogs a good idea.

Lastly, he’s got to make it the happiest, most special day he can. Martin should feel special all the time, but Jon knows how hard that is, especially when you go home and you’re lonely and it seems like you’re the least special person there is. But if Jon is very nice to him and makes the day as fun as possible, maybe he’ll be able to keep that happiness all night, even when Jon leaves. 

That’ll be the hardest part, Jon thinks. He’s not the type of person to make someone happy. Sigh in aggravation, maybe. Roll their eyes. But Martin does neither of those things, so Jon might have a chance. He’ll try and ‘tone it down,’ though. His Jon-ness can be too much at times, and he doesn’t want that to get in the way of what should be Martin’s day.

Everything’s going to be perfect. 

________

And then it’s Saturday, and Jon still doesn’t have a present for Martin. 

He somehow managed to get Nan to agree to the cupcake bit- he’d asked very politely, ate all of his dinner and didn’t spill a thing. Though he thinks it has more to do with her liking Martin. She always acts surprised when she sees him over, like she’s shocked Jon kept a friend for longer than a week. He’s not that bad. But Tuesday she promised to take him to the grocery with her, so it’s fine. One part of his plan is done.

But the present. 

Actually buying something is clearly out of the question- he already exhausted his Nan’s good will in that department. And Jon, for all his usual creativity, is plum out of ideas. He could give him one of his books, but he does that already without prompting. He doesn’t have any good toys, and Martin certainly isn’t getting his best pen, the one that glides real smoothly on the page.

“Are you alright?”

He’s been staring at Martin too long. “Of course,” Jon snaps. “I just like your shirt today, that’s all.”

Martin looks down at his worn t-shirt. It’s not Jon’s favorite, but it’s Martin’s, so he likes it. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

They’re out in the woods behind Mr. Fletchley’s house to investigate what Jon thought was an ancient ruin but just turned out to be a couple of crumbling cinder blocks. It was an incredibly disappointing find, but Martin wasn’t discouraged.

“We don’t know where they came from, or why someone dumped them here,” he reasoned, a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “What if they were stolen? What if they’re part of a...a crime, or something?”

Jon doesn’t know what crime would need a cinder block, but he intends to find out. They’ve been walking down the relatively short path (it’s not so much woods as it is a cluster of trees) and haven’t seen anything suspicious, besides a few empty wrappers and a particularly sharp stick that Jon’s been whacking against the ground. He thinks it could’ve been used as a weapon.

“What are you going to do when you’re eight?” he asks, nudging Martin in the side. He hasn’t mentioned his birthday since the first time, so he’ll be in for a real treat come Wednesday. Jon just hopes he can think of something good in time.

“Mm, I don’t know.” Martin slows down to a mosey, and Jon tries to match his strides no matter how much he wants to jump ahead. Martin’s a real ‘slow down and sniff the flowers’ type of guy. Jon’s more of a ‘run ahead and accidentally trample them’ type. “Probably the same as I’m doing now. It’s not like it’s an important age. I can’t drive or anything like that.”

“It’s a very important age!” Jon insists, though he doesn’t have much to back that up. He’s mostly just excited because it’s Martin’s very first birthday with him. “You should look forward to something.”

“I dunno, I don’t want anything to change,” Martin says, his face going a little red as he stares at the ground. “I’d just like to spend more time with you. Have fun. That kind of stuff.”

Jon blinks. “We do that now, though.”

“Yeah. It’s the best.” Martin gives him a toothy grin, the kind that Jon puts away and thinks about later when he’s at dinner with Nan or getting ready in the morning. People don’t smile at him like that, only Martin. He does it all the time when Jon tells him a good joke, or shares his food, or passes him a particularly funny doodle.

And now Jon’s got the perfect idea for a present.

part 2

[iceeckos12]

time travel snippet

little time travel au oneshot. season 5 jon travels back in time to season 1. from the perspectives of tim, martin, and sasha. 3.5k.

i dont think i need to tag anything, but please let me know otherwise.

Tim wakes up that morning, and it’s just like any other day.

Well—no, okay, that’s a bit misleading. Today is his first day working as an archival assistant, so he’s one part nervous, one part that breathless, exhilarated feeling you only get when you’re about to do something unfamiliar that may or may not redefine your life for the foreseeable future. When he says “it’s just like any other day”, he means that he wakes up, and he’s a normal person doing normal people things like eating a healthy breakfast and going to work.

(So, no. In short, he doesn’t realize that today is the day when It happens, that big, life-changing event that you think will Never Happen To You.)

He gets out of bed, stumbles into the bathroom. Washes his face of whatever residue that’d built up during the night, tries to scrape away the evidence of his nightmares, smiles big and bright at the mirror to see how successful his efforts were. He’s betrayed by the traitorous bags beneath his eyes, but that’s okay. Sasha taught him how to wield concealer as a shield whenever his past wore down his armor.

He shoots twin finger guns into his reflection, making soft pew, pew! noises that are almost too-loud in the hush of the bathroom. Then he turns on his heel and walks away, sauntering and humming along with the chorus of Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5.

He gets to the Institute twenty minutes before he’s supposed to—not because he’s trying to impress his boss or whatever (he and Jon have known each other long enough that there’s no point). It’s just, Jon will probably want to make some sort of game-plan before the actual workday starts. 

The poor man had been relieved to an almost comical degree when Tim had said yes, I’ll come with you to the Archives. It’s painfully obvious how out-of-his-depth Jon is with the whole “Head Archivist” thing. Tim’s honestly baffled as to why Elias had singled him out for the position in the first place, considering his lack of qualifications.

But, whatever. It’s fine! Tim and Sasha will be there to help him—although the third assistant is a bit of a problem, considering that they know absolutely nothing about him. There’s no guarantee that this Martin Blackwood won’t report inadequacies or mistakes back to Elias. If that’s the case, Tim and Sasha will have to be Jon’s safety net, which is partially why Tim is hoping to talk to Jon before anyone else gets there.

He also wants to talk to Jon because he just knows the man is probably working himself up over all of this. Maybe reassurances won’t do away with the source of anxiety entirely, but at least it’ll remind Jon that he’s not alone, and that he can count on Tim and Sasha.

As expected, when Tim gets there he can see a sliver of light pouring out from the cracked door of the Head Archivist’s office. He selects a desk and sets his bag on top of it, noting a set of strange gouges in the fake wood with a raised eyebrow, and then an internal shrug. The Institute issued laptop is near the far edge of his desk, and his collection of pictures are strategically placed so that he can see them all clearly.

His eyes linger over the image of him, his mother, and his brother. Their smiles are almost perfect replicas of each other, like someone took a mold of one of their faces and recreated it twice over.

Briefly, he closes his eyes. Then he shakes himself, releases a slow, steadying breath, and goes to check on Jon.

Tim’s not sure what he’s expecting to see when he goes into Jon’s office.

(That’s misleading too, though. He’s not sure if Jon will be visibly calm or upset, if he’ll be on his laptop, if he’ll be picking at the skin around his fingernails, as he so often does when he’s stressed. He is expecting Jon as he is and always has been—a twenty-some year old going on sixty, who wraps his gruff, grumpy demeanor about himself to protect the soft, vulnerable core he likes to pretend doesn’t exist.)

He comes up to the door, and the soft rectangle of light that emanates from beneath the door paints the tips of his shoes gold. “Jon?” he calls softly, rapping his knuckles against the frame. There’s a soft rustling noise—papers maybe? but no audible response, so he shrugs and pushes the door open. “I’m coming in.”

Tim steps inside, a quip instinctively readying itself on his tongue—but then his gaze lands on Jon, and he freezes dead in his tracks.

Even years later, he still vividly, viscerally remembers the moment he saw Danny standing on the stage underneath the Royal Opera House, the way he’d looked...not quite right. The wrongness had been subtle, so much so that it had been unnoticeable upon first glance, upon second glance. The longer Tim had looked though, the more obvious it had become, exposing all the little faults in that almost-perfect recreation of his brother.

Looking at Jon now, it’s the first and only thing he can think of. Because—yes, there’s the long, silver-streaked black hair, there’s the rich brown eyes, there’s the pair of spectacles that make him look far older than he actually is. But that’s where the similarities between the Jon he knows and this Jon end.

Jon’s always been a small man, but his feigned haughtiness makes him seem much bigger than he actually is. Except—except this Jon looks smaller somehow, his shoulders curved protectively inward, like he’s trying to present less of a target. And there’s something about his face, too—his expression is too sharp, too much—

But the worst of it is his eyes. There’s something very wrong with his eyes.

Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Jon? He doesn’t say it out loud though, just keeps staring at Jon, a heady mix of terror and horror making any sort of reaction impossible.

After a moment Jon’s lips thin, contorted by some distant cousin of displeasure, and he rises to his feet. Tim stumbles instinctively backward, his breath escaping him in a sharp gasp that’s immediately swallowed up by the apathetic stacks of books and papers surrounding them. He’s struck by the fact that if he dies here, it’s unlikely anyone will notice; he’ll become just another set of marks gouged into the desk, willed away with an uneasy shrug.

Jon freezes, lips parting subtly, as though he were about to speak. Tim feels his breath catch in his chest, unable to shake himself out of the clouded stupor his mind has fallen into.

In the end, Jon says nothing. Just releases a long, slow breath of air and sits back down, pushing his chair close to his desk. The motion looks heavy, tired, as though it takes far more energy than it should.

“You—you should go,” Jon rasps, and there’s something off about his voice too, though Tim can’t put his finger on why. He can’t cobble together enough of a train of thought to make sense of any of this, all he can think of is that clown ripping Danny apart—

He stumbles out of Jon’s office, sits down at his desk. Stares down at the cheap, fake wood, at the gouges that have marred the otherwise pristine surface. Puts his head in his hands, and tries to will his heart to stop pounding in his chest.

-0-

Martin’s heard things about Jonathan Sims.

He’s not usually the type to pay attention or encourage gossip, as the vivid memories of his classmates tittering cruelly whenever he walked by still leaves a sour taste in his mouth.The problem with the Institute is that the employees get bored pretty easily. Though most would consider academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal to be fairly interesting, it’s still academic research. And the subject content can get to be a bit...repetitive. There’s only so many gruesome statements you can read without thinking, oh great, more meat.

So the employees gossip a lot, and while Martin usually tries to keep his head down and avoid it, it’s difficult not to overhear some things. And from what little he’s heard, he’s...a bit concerned. Rude and unsociable has frequently been mentioned, as have arrogant and unnecessarily finicky, and worst of all, a bit of a stuck-up know-it-all.

Normally he tries not to put too much stock in office gossip—he’s well aware that the grapevine tends to exaggerate one’s most undesirable traits—but if any of it is true, then he might just be in trouble. It was hard enough being a library employee when his boss wasn’t even paying attention most of the time. If Jon is as exacting as they say, it might be enough to expose the fact that Martin has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. And if that happens, then he might get fired, and he can’t get fired, he needs this job, he can barely keep up with his mum’s medical bills as it is—

Calm down, Martin tells himself firmly, pressing his hand against his sternum, as though that will be enough to quell the rising panic. It’s only your first day. Maybe he’s nice, and we’ll actually be good friends.

(With his luck? Yeah, right.)

The Institute looms in the distance, growing closer with every terrified, grudging footstep. A shiver runs up his spine at the sight of its imposing presence, a dark, ugly blot of a building against the backdrop of the iron grey clouds.

If there’s one thing he’s good at though, it’s keeping his head down and muddling through until he’s able to figure out what is actually expected of him. He can twist and fold himself into whatever role they need him to fill, as he has done so many times in the past. Not easily perhaps, but he has always managed. The alternative is untenable, after all.

So he takes a deep breath, and shoves his panic down as deep as possible. Lifts his head and forces a smile onto his face, like a good attitude will be enough to protect him from his boss’s wrath.

He could really do with a cup of tea.

Martin trudges down the stairs, giving the blank walls, the old-fashioned carpet, a dubious look as he does. The Archives themselves are as he remembers it—he’s been down here a couple of times when Gertrude made a request for something specific, but—

He pauses when he notices a man sitting at one of the desks, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders aren’t shaking and his breathing is even, so Martin doesn’t think that he’s crying? He’s just….sitting there, his stillness so perfect it’s almost inhuman.

“Hello?” Martin calls softly, cautiously, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.

The man looks up, revealing a very handsome face and brown eyes so dark they may as well be black. His cheeks are dry but his eyes are bright and a little wild, and his mouth is pressed into a small, tight line. He doesn’t speak, just keeps watching, blinking dazedly in Martin’s direction. Martin gets the feeling that this person isn’t entirely there at the moment, like a house in which every room is lit, but there are no people inside.

He swallows and shifts nervously back and forth, trying to decide whether or not to call for some backup. Eventually he sets his bag on the floor and shuffles a bit closer. “Um—are you—is everything okay?”

The man blinks rapidly, some semblance of awareness creeping back into his gaze. He shakes his head slowly, pushes his short, gelled hair back from his head. His hands are trembling. “I’m...yeah, I’m fine. It’s—everything’s, it’s…”

But then his gaze lands on something over Martin’s shoulder, and all the color drains out of his face, his mouth shutting with a painful sounding click. Martin quickly spins around, searching for whatever could’ve scared him so much—

There’s someone standing in the doorway of Gertrude’s office.

There are so many things that one normally takes in upon first meeting another person: their hair, their skin color, all the little wrinkles and marks that give you the briefest insight into their life. Martin looks at posture first, tends to check if a person is intentionally looming, or if they’re making themself smaller.

But all Martin can see are the eyes.

There’s—two of them he thinks, but two is such an arbitrary number when the thing you’re applying it to doesn’t ascribe to human values (he’s not sure how he knows that—how does he know that—?). That horrible, terrible gaze is an unerring arrow, all-encompassing, all-consuming, piercing the deepest corners of his mind. It hurts in some distant, nebulous way he’s not even sure he comprehends—

Then he blinks, and the sheer terror, that feeling of the horrible, violating exposure of everything that he is, abruptly snuffs out. What’s left is just a person, wispy and small, his slight frame fairly drowning in a chunky, cable-knit jumper. He’s leaning against his doorframe, his eyes—two big brown ones, rich and unfathomably sad and more than that, human—drinking Martin in, his lips parted in a soundless gasp.

“Um—” Martin glances over his shoulder, and almost leaps out of his skin when a land falls heavily on his shoulder. The man who’d been sitting in the chair is standing just behind him, a strained but polite smile on his face.

“Hi Jon,” the man says, an undercurrent of a warning in his voice.

Martin glances between the two, his confusion growing with every passing moment. This is not what he was expecting when he first came into work today, and the uncertainty makes him feel strange and off-kilter.

The person in the door swallows once, twice, then straightens, one hand still gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. When he speaks, his voice is soft, tentative, a little ragged around the edges. “Tim. It’s, um...it’s good to see you.”

“Martin Blackwood, was it?” Tim continues, injecting a bit of cheer into his voice. It takes Martin a moment to realize that he’s being addressed, and he shoots Jon—this is Jonathan Sims?—an uncertain look before nodding slowly. “We’re happy to have you on the team.”

“O-Oh?” Martin squeaks, then grits his teeth and bodily forces his voice back into its normal range. “I’m—um, I’m happy to be here?”

“Good,” Tim says through a grin that looks more like a grimace, giving Martin’s shoulder a friendly pat. The look he shoots Jon is a dark, mistrustful thing. The look Jon gives him back is fragile, vulnerable, that winds the tension in Tim’s shoulders so tight it has to be painful.

Jon’s gaze flickers to Martin, just for a second—and then he disappears into his office, leaving the door cracked behind him.

Tim and Martin stand there for a second, staring at the door. Tim’s still tense as a bowstring, and his grip on Martin’s shoulder is almost uncomfortable. The air in the Archives feels stuffy and too warm, and there’s a strange prickling sensation on the back of Martin’s neck, like he’s being subjected to close scrutiny.

Then Tim sighs and lets go of Martin’s shoulder, a little of the tension bleeding out of him, and without it he looks small, deflated. He goes back to his desk and sits down, booting up his laptop without a word of explanation to Martin.

Martin stares at the back of Tim’s head for a moment, a number of questions clamoring around in his brain—what the fuck was that? What’s wrong with Jon? Why are you so obviously suspicious of him?—but the words won’t come. Breaking the silence feels...sacrilegious, somehow. Every breath of air sticks against the back of his throat.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything either, just sits at his desk and takes out his Institute-issued laptop. Stares blankly at the screen as the machine slowly, laboriously, comes to life.

-0-

Sasha’s not entirely sure how to interpret the tense atmosphere that has descended over the Archives.

The first day she’d arrived a couple of minutes before she was supposed to, prepared to follow Jon’s direction and help him adjust as best she could. (Her feelings about Jon’s promotion...didn’t matter. She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t his fault that Elias was an old-fashioned misogynist.)

But when she’d come down the stairs, Tim and the assistant she didn’t know, Martin, had been seated quietly at their desks. They’d both had the same distant, shell-shocked look on their faces, like they’d received some shattering, horrible news. Sasha had sent Tim a confused look, but he either hadn’t noticed it, or hadn’t wanted to explain.

She hadn’t even seen Jon that first day, just received a polite email asking her to start organizing the statements according to the system which he’d devised.

It’s been almost three days, and nothing has changed. Oh sure, they’ve all started organizing the statements as directed. Tim cracks jokes, Martin tiptoes around them and makes copious amounts of tea. That strange tension that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, like the world is holding its breath in anticipation, hasn’t faded though. And while she doesn’t know Martin all that well, she knows that something’s still up with Tim. He seems more subdued than usual, keeps sending uncomfortable looks in the direction of Jon’s office—

—which hasn’t been open since that first day. She hasn’t seen Jon at all either, no matter how early she arrives or how late she stays. The only proof she has that he’s still alive is the polite email she periodically receives, detailing some specific task that he wants for them to do.

Even then, his emails are...odd. She’s not sure how she can tell, but they feel...awkward? Stilted? Like he’s only half-aware of what he’s typing, or like he’s only asking them to do things because he feels like he should, not because he has any actual goal in mind.

Normally she’d be frustrated by this, would complain bitterly to Tim about Elias passing over her for someone who obviously doesn’t properly appreciate the position they’ve been given—except that she knows Jon. He’d made a point to explain the situation to her himself, an apologetic twist tucked into the corner of his mouth. More than that, he’d asked her to follow him to the archives, saying that he wanted the two people he trusted most, her and Tim, to come with him.

He respects her too much not to take this job seriously.

The strangeness of the archives is only emphasized by Jon’s complete and utter lack of presence within it, but she doesn’t—she doesn’t buy that. She doesn’t believe that he’d just suddenly decide not to do the job he’d been so anxious to excel at. 

More damning than anything is Tim’s complete, utter silence regarding Jon’s strange behavior, but whatever he knows about it, he isn’t saying anything. Martin is willing to talk, but he seems to be as lost as she is.

“I—that first day, Jon…” Martin shrugs, shooting a nervous glance toward the door leading to the archives. He’s been spending a lot of time hovering in the break room making tea, not that she can blame him. “He—I mean obviously I don’t know him very well, but he seemed...upset?”

“Upset,” Sasha repeats dubiously.

Martin lets out an exhausted sigh and turns away, waving a dismissive hand. “Look, I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. He just—okay, so, bear with me for a second, but he reminded me of this guy who used to live in my neighborhood.”

Sasha backs off, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. “Okay?”

“There was this little old couple that used to live in my neighborhood. They were—they were really sweet! The husband used to give candy to us younger kids. But um—sometimes you’d see him sitting in the rocking chair on his porch, and it was like...he wasn’t entirely there? Like, he’d just sit there for hours, rocking and staring at nothing. That’s—that’s what Jon’s expression reminded me of.”

Martin gets more animated the more he talks, Sasha notes; his hands move in broad, sweeping gestures, his expression twisting into an expression of extreme concentration. The moment he finishes he deflates again, tucking his hands into his armpits self-consciously, a hedgehog curling protectively in on itself.

“So, yeah,” he finishes eloquently.

“Huh,” Sasha says thoughtfully.

She gets back to her desk. Looks over at Tim, who’s studiously working through a box of statements, his mouth set in a neutral, concentrated frown. Takes a deep breath, letting the taste of dust and old papers sit heavy on her tongue.

Then she opens her laptop and starts looking through the catalog of cursed items that are currently being held in Artifact Storage.

(She doesn’t think that she’ll find anything, but—but just in case.)

-0-

They all get the call the next Monday morning: Elias Bouchard was found dead in his office.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Quarantine: A Love Story{23}

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst, Plot Heavy, Slight NSFW

Words: 4.3k

Note: Italic text signifies a past memory/conversation.

*Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. FICTION! Think twice before you come @ me.

I hope you guys enjoy this. If you enjoyed this LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG.

As always, thank you for reading!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters:  Q1 |  Q2 |  Q3 |  Q4 |  Q5 |  Q6 |  Q7 |  Q8 |  Q9 | Q10 | Q11 | Q12 | Q13 | Q14 | Q15 | Q16 | Q17 | Q18  | Q19 | Q20 | Q21 | Q22 

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Quarantine Week Thirteen-

-Chris-

 “Knock, knock, room service.”

 Groaning, he lifted his head, squinting at the sun that was shining through the window.

 “What the fuck?”

 “Knock, knock, room service,” came the voice again.

 His head was pounding, and the light was not helping. Rolling onto his back, he used his hand to shield the sun before he rubbed his face hoping to clear the haziness in his eyes and head. When he felt steady enough to stand, he walked across the room to the door. Once there, he realized he was naked. Grabbing a discarded towel off a nearby chair, he wrapped it around his waist then cracked the door enough to see who it was. No one was there, just a room service cart. Poking his head out, he looked from side to side, still not seeing anyone.

 “Did I order room service?”

 Not wanting someone to happen to come out of their room and see him, he quickly rolled the cart inside his room, leaving it just before the bed. As he dropped onto the bed, he took the notecard wedged between the coffee mugs.

 I let you sleep in yesterday and work through whatever it was that you were going through, but today is business as usual. We have meetings.

-M

 Groaning, he dropped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling before closing his eyes. As soon as he did, it was your face he saw. Memories of your last night together flooded him like always. They always came when he had more than ten minutes to himself. So nights were sleepless, showers were torture, and getting any work done was next to impossible. He’d left because there was nothing else to do. He’d been getting plenty of emails about possible work in London and meetings to take, but he’d pushed them back time and time again. One reason was the pandemic that was still ravaging the world, but the other reason was you. He wanted to be near you, learn more about you, begin building with you. That didn’t look to be what you wanted, though.

 He groaned again and rubbed his face hoping to stop the onslaught. It didn’t work. Your voice echoed in his head, and he swore he could feel your hands on him. God, he wanted you here. He wanted to still be in his cabin with you still resting your head on his chest. He wanted to be breathing in your scent, coconut oil, flowers, brown sugar, and pineapples. Your scent was seared to his memory.

 “Fuck!”

 His shout echoed in the hotel room. He sat up and stared at the cart with the breakfast spread. He’d done everything he could.

 “She just doesn’t want me.”

 With that, he stood and began getting himself ready for his meetings. He had three in total, and that itself told him it would be a long day.

 Sure enough, by two in the afternoon, he was still busy and hadn’t had the time even to get lunch. The first meeting went on for three hours, and now he’d taken an unplanned zoom one regarding his project with Mark and Joe. Things were always moving behind the scenes, and though the last few weeks were a nice vacation of sorts, it was time for him to get his head back into the game, no matter how difficult it was posing to be.

 As two meetings turned to three, then four, he found himself running on empty, and the longer that went by without you reaching out to him in any way, the angrier and more bitter he became. Never in his life had he been in this situation. He’d pursued plenty of women, but they all were receptive. They all showed interest of some sort. They all wanted him. he may not have wanted them on the level they wanted him, but there was a minimal basic understanding. With you, he felt he was always the one chasing you. It was disconcerting.

 When he got in for the night, he was exhausted and ready for a shower and sleep. The ringing of his phone said it was not to be.

 “Yes, Meg.”

 “Did you look over that proposal I sent earlier?”

 Sighing, he sat and hung his head back. “What proposal?”

 “Hear me out before you shoot it down. What do you know about Letecia Jemison?”

 “Who?”

 “The model turned actress,” Meg clarified.

 He sighed again, then put the phone on speaker and typed in the name into his Google search. In seconds images of who Meg was talking about populated.

 “She’s pretty, right.”

 “Meg, what’re ya doing?”

 “Nothing, just listen. Her team has been in contact with me, and I know her publicist. We've come up with a way to help both of you. With quarantine, everyone has reverted to a home-based lifestyle. This means maybe some names aren’t on tongues, and that means the roles are slowing.”

 Already he didn’t like the way this was going.

 “Meg--,” he began.

 “It’s just a few photo ops. The press will get a few pictures, people will start talking, and the rest it easy. Plus, I think you two would hit it off; maybe this will jumpstart a relationship.”

 “Oh god. Meg. I am not in the market for a relationship.”

 “Chris, you’re a good looking guy. Quarantine has been going on for weeks. Not to be invasive, but when was the last time you were in the company of someone who wasn’t family?”

 He scoffed and sat back while scrolling through the pictures.

 “Meg. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

 “It’s harmless. One or two dates, you get to blow off steam and maybe get something more,” Meg finished.

 The picture on his screen was of this Leticia woman in a figure-hugging dress that accentuated her figure. She wasn’t bad to look at; he had to admit.

 “And what does she have to say about all this?”

 “According to Mike, he said she sounds open to it. If the idea of a photo op sounds deceiving, think of it as a date or spending time with a friend. You can never have too many contacts in this business.”

 Meg always knew how to spin things. Her goal was to keep him relevant for as long as it was in his interest, or he decided to remain in the business.

 “We have to talk first, Meg. Set up a facetime or zoom, or something,” he suggested.

 “All right. I’ll text you. Get some rest.”

 After ending the conversation, he stared out the window and immediately thought of you. Even a conversation for a meet up felt wrong to him. Weeks ago, he wouldn’t have cared.

 “Unbelievable.”

 Standing, he walked to the bathroom, determined to find some peace for the night.

  ~~~~~~~~

 -Y/N-

Staring at the cabin, it looked the same, but it felt different. Whereas it felt warm and inviting before, now it felt cold and so far away. It had been three days, and you couldn’t believe he’d just up and left without so much as a goodbye or see you later.

 “Of course he left. Why would he stay?”

 “Because he’s in love with you.”

 Spinning, you saw Ms. Lisa standing there. You sighed and looked back at the cabin. The last three days, her, Shanna, nor Carly brought up the elephant in the room. They didn’t treat you any differently, but you saw the questions in their eyes. You thought they would just let it be one of those things people brushed to the side and ignored, but seeing her here you knew it would not be that. When she stood beside you, you glanced at her.

 “Let’s take a walk to the beach,” Lisa suggested.

 You walked in silence through the wooded area from the cabin, around the guesthouse, and down the steps to the sand. Once there, you both kicked off your shoes and walked down the beach until you sat. You dug your toes into the hot on the surface but cold underneath sand and sighed out.

 “How are you doing?”

 You couldn’t help but laugh. What was supposed to be a quick chuckle turned into an elaborate laugh that went on for a full minute. She probably thought you were insane. You felt insane. When you stopped, you sighed then swallowed the lump in your throat.

 “I’m fine.”

 “Are you as fine as Chris is?” Your eyes met, but you were the first to look away back to the waves. “I can see just how fine he is.”

 “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t plan it, and I’m sorry you found out the way you did, and I’m sorry if I broke your trust,” you rushed out. Lisa grabbed your hand and held it in her warmer ones.

 “Y/N, no, no, no. You didn’t break my trust at all, and you certainly have nothing to apologize to me for. You are a grown woman, a beautiful grown woman at that. Honestly, I saw this coming years ago.”

 You snapped your head to her, giving her a quizzical look. “What? How?”

 Lisa smiled and rubbed the back of your hand. “I know Chris and all my children like the back of my hand. I raised them and have paid close attention throughout the years. While it’s more difficult to understand him now than it used to be, I do. He’s always been drawn to you. From day one, and against your better judgment, you’ve also been drawn to him.”

 You sighed again, looking away from her kind face and back out to the ocean.

 “You never understood it until these last few weeks. You saw his apprehensiveness and labeled it as hate. This quarantine has allowed you to see past that, see him on a level you probably weren’t ready for. You also weren’t prepared to like that side of him.”

 She was spot on, but you were not going to admit that, not out loud at least.

 “I’m here for you, Y/N. If you want to talk or not talk, I’m here. I’m not going to judge you or chastise you. It is not my place, and truly Y/N, I love you like you were part of my family.”

 A tear slid down your cheek, making you roll your eyes. “Oh great,” you groaned.

 Lisa put her arm around your shoulder and slide closer, but she didn’t speak again. She was letting you decide what you needed rather than her coaxing you in one direction or the other. You didn’t know how long stretched with only the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore, but she didn’t seem to care. As the sun was beginning to set, you opened up to her, letting her know about your past and its effect on you. You steered clear of recent events with Chris or even the fact that of the two of you becoming intimate. Once you began, it felt like you were letting something go that you’d been holding on to for such a long time—shame. That feeling of unburdening shifted to you, spilling your guts telling her things you probably shouldn’t have.

 You told her how much you’d hated her son for the first year, then told her how much he confused you and had you doubting yourself by the first have of the second year. Then you admitted that that hate and confusion turned to you being annoyed that you thought about him and even liked seeing him when you did. Your diarrhea of the mouth went further when you admitted that you’d probably thought about sleeping with him long before it actually happened. Still, Lisa didn’t speak. She let you say all you had to, and it turned out you had a lot to say.

 You expressed your remorse over lying and sneaking around the last few weeks but admitted you weren’t sorry about it. That was when you felt able to confess that you loved all the conversations you and Chris had, you loved learning new things, loved seeing the vulnerable and soft side of him that he never showed. You even felt comfortable enough to voice your fears.

 “I’m afraid if I let him in like I let Thro in that he’ll destroy me worse than he ever could. I was stupid with Theo. The signs were there, but I bypassed them. I didn’t listen to my gut, and by doing that, it cost me more than I ever dreamed. I am not the same person I was then. Everywhere I go, no matter who I am with, I have this barrier between them and me, and Chris is the only one who has ever been able to get behind that barrier. There are so many things that take me away and make it impossible for me to allow him to remain behind this barrier.”

 You sniffled and wiped your cheeks while trying to get a hold of yourself.

 “Do you want him behind the barrier?”

 “It doesn’t matter what I want. The question is, can I afford for him to be behind it, especially with everything I have going on and this new bullshit. It’s a lot.”

 Lisa nodded. “That’s where you’re wrong. It matters. We have one life to live, Y/N. Tomorrow or the next is not guaranteed. This one existence is what we have. Our only purpose is to live a happy life, one that is fulfilling, rewarding, truthful, and full of love. To do that, we all have to find our truth, and we have to live in it. We have to unravel who we are, come face to face with our weaknesses, fears, strengths, and live unapologetically in all that glory. You have to do that. If you can’t, would you really want to look back on your death bed with nothing but regrets and no time to make it right?”

 You hated how right she was. She wasn’t saying anything your mother hadn’t told you time and time again. She’d tried to drill this into your head after Connecticut, but you weren’t listening—you couldn’t. You still couldn’t. Everything in your life was now pointing in one direction, and you still couldn’t bask in it. Your past still gripped you and hovered over your head.

 “Remember,” Lisa began drawing your attention to her. she wiped your cheek with the back of her hand the way only a mother could do. “Nothing and no one can keep two people apart who are meant to be. No matter how much time has passed, and no matter what plans are formed against them or promises are made. I guarantee when it’s the one, Y/N, you’ll have no hesitations. You might fight it, but it won’t change anything. No amount of fighting off what’s meant to be will make an ounce of difference.”

 You snorted because you remembered her saying the same thing a few weeks ago on this very beach. She’d known all along. She must have known you knew because her smile was warm.

 “It’s a sixth or seventh sense. You’ll see when you become a mother whenever that may be, sooner or later, or sooner.”

 You busted out laughing so loud that your laughter carried in the wind and out to sea.

 ��All I’m saying is he can’t do any better than you,” Lisa added, making you laugh harder, a laugh she joined in on.

 ~~~~~~~~

-Chris-

After another sleepless night, he was in a shit mood and feeling like he was going through some form of withdrawals. He’d grown so accustomed to seeing your face every day or rolling over and bumping into your body that not doing it felt strange, incomplete sort of. When he recognized those feelings, he began to feel angry. He didn’t know what he was angry at, the fact that you’d rejected him or the fact that you hadn’t even given him a chance. He knew you felt something. You had to. Every time he looked into your eyes, he saw something there. You spoke very little about your feelings, but he remembered the words you had said that last night when he’d asked you what you were thinking.

 “You. Always only you.”

 Maybe he was grasping at straws, but that meant more than what it sounded like. He felt it.

 “I told you that you’d like her,” Megan’s voice infiltrated his thoughts.

 “Sorry, what?”

 “Where are you? For the last few days, you’ve been here but not here.”

 He rubbed the back of his neck, then shrugged. “I’m here.”

 “Okay. Have some fun tonight. It’s not really work,” Meg advised.

 He sighed and looked himself over in the mirror. After a Zoom call with Letecia that lasted about thirty minutes, he was able to get a better feel for her. She was beautiful and funny. After thirty minutes, he wasn’t rushing off the call, so he bit the bullet and suggested dinner that night, all with the ideology there was no harm in a meal in mind.

 “It’s just a quick dinner, Meg. No one is putting rings on fingers.”

 “Don’t rule it out,” Meg sing songed.

 It still felt disingenuous, and maybe that was why he wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but he’d made a commitment, and he was a man of his word if anything.

 “The car will be downstairs in about ten minutes, so knock em’ dead,” Meg said, winking at him as she walked out of his room.

 Once alone, he was finally able to take a breath. Hitching his hands on his hips, he hung his head low and sighed again. “Get your head in the game, ya’ clown.”

 He heard the ringing of his phone, and he felt it was someone from his team or even Meg trying to pump him up. When he looked at the screen, it was a number he didn’t recognize.

 “Hello?”

 Silence.

 “Hello?”

 He wasn’t in the mood for some robocall. Just as he was going to hang up, he heard sniffles.

 “Who is this?”

 “I’m sorry.”

 He’d recognize your voice anywhere. The war within him began. Part of him wanted to console you and push aside any hurt he felt to make you feel better, but the other half was what kept him quiet. He didn’t want to make this any easier. He supposed it was a little of that resentment seeping through. The silence stretched from minute to minute until neither of you had spoken for a full five. Every minute the war within him waged.

 “What do you want?”

 “I—I--,” you stuttered before sighing and sniffling some more. No words actually came out.

 Another minute of silence passed, and it was his anger and annoyance that piqued, not his sympathy.

 “Y/N, what!?”

 “I fucked up,” you shouted, then immediately got silent again.

 “I fucked up bad, and I’m—I’m sorry.”

 He took a slow breath in and tried to get control over the part of him that wanted to yell. As a child, Mary-Go-Rounds were his least favorite carnival ride, and nothing had changed.

 “Did you hear me, Chris?”

 “I heard you. I’m just—what do you want from me, Y/N?”

 He walked to the seat by the window and dropped his head in his hand.

 “I don’t know what you want from me. I let you bring me as close as you want, then you tell me to back off and give you space. I am kind and respectful to you, and you push me away and tell me about my whorish ways. I treat you with nothing but care and love, and you tell me to shut up pretty much. I don’t—what do you want from me?”

 “I have a lot going on right now. I, there’s so much you don’t know and understand about me and my life, and I--.”

 “—So tell me. I don’t know where along this path you thought that all I care about is sex, but that’s wrong. It’s never been about sex with me—us. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

 Silence. The only thing he heard was the return of your sniffles. A few moments later, you cleared your throat.

 “I care--about you.”

 The hiss of his breath slipped out, but it was an accurate depiction of his frustrations.

 “Care about me? Wo--Okay. Has the last few weeks meant anything to you?”

 “Chris,” you whispered.

 “See, I don’t even need you to say the words back. A few days ago, I was wrapped up on that, but tonight it’s not—I felt that maybe I’d been rushing you, and I didn’t even mean to say them, but more and more, I just feel like a fucking idiot when it comes to you. I’ve been this—open book to you, and you’ve shown me next to nothing. So I guess I need to know once and for all, plain as day. Has the last few weeks meant anything to you?”

 This time your silence was louder than anything he’d heard. After ten seconds, he should have hung up, but he sat there for a minute, then two, all the while, his heart just broke.

 “They do mean something,” you whispered.

 He felt like a contestant on some gut-wrenching game show, and he was on the edge of his seat and filled with so much anxiety.

 “Do you want me, Y/N?”

 You sighed loudly, then whispered his name.

 “All you have to do is choose me like I’m choosing you,” he finished.

 There was rustling and muffled voices that he couldn’t quite make out. What he could make out was your last name, and the words “case” and “update.”

 “I gotta go. I can’t do this right now; I really can’t.” You were crying.

 Then the call ended. He sat there for several long minutes going through so many different emotions, pain, sadness, confusion, hope, then anger. That was the emotion he left his room with, anger. Long gone were the words of his mother’s text from earlier, “Don’t make permanent decisions with temporary hurt feelings.”

 At dinner, Letecia was great. She was funny, charismatic, sweet, and flirtatious. They talked about each of their experiences in the business, which led to talk about what different directors and producers were like, which led to joking about them. The conversation easily flowed from one thing to the next with little to no awkwardness. Still, his mind was distracted. He kept replaying the conversation he’d had with you barely an hour ago. When his brain couldn’t make sense of it, he moved on to comparing you to Letecia.

 He compared your voices. Hers was more high pitched, yours softer. He compared your smiles, yours more genuine and bright, hers looked freer. He compared your eyes. He liked yours better. He compared your scents. They were both pleasant, yours won out, but he was not against hers. By the time dinner was finished, he knew Letecia didn’t stack up to you. He knew it with every fiber of his being, but there was something in him that had him progressing with the night. He could see her attraction to him, and he had to admit that he liked being wanted.

 When they left the restaurant, they climbed into the waiting car together and laughed the entire way back to his hotel, a suggestion of hers he hadn’t objected to. Once they pulled up to the hotel and began walking to the entrance, Letecia leaned to his ear and whispered something flirty that told him where the night was headed. As soon as they’d gotten comfortable in his room, he got her a drink, and they talked a little more before she’d made a move to climb on top of him. Letecia pulled him into a flirtatious kiss, one he didn’t pull away from. She took his hand and placed it on her ass, taking the lead. It was like this was a first for him. His actions were slow and delayed. Nothing felt natural, and he hated it only felt that way with you.

 As if to prove something to himself, he held Letecia’s head steady and kissed her with intent to forget your face. Her moans filled the room, and soon she was sliding odd his lap to sit on the floor between his legs. He watched as she unbuckled his pants and helped him lower his pants. Once the garment was at his ankles, Letecia wasted no time lowering her mouth onto his shaft. A groan escaped him as he watched her bob on his length, all the while slurping against his skin. It took him several minutes to get into the groove of what she was doing because his focus shifted perilously between her and you. No matter what, you resided in his head.

 The feeling of doing something wrong constantly nagged him, distracting him from feeling much of anything though Letecia tried her best to draw a reaction. He dropped his head back, hoping that maybe not looking at her would help matters. It didn’t. His memories fluctuated between you doing the same things to a different reaction and the reality before him. He tried to forcibly get his head right, reminding himself that he’d done this plenty of times, and it shouldn’t have been hard. Even that didn’t help.

 When Letecia stood before him to remove her burgundy dress, he skimmed her body, taking in every detail. It was underwhelming when he thought back to you, and the sight of her, while beautiful, didn’t excite him. She came closer and kissed him teasingly before walking behind him. When he looked back, he saw her crawl onto his bed then lie down to spread her legs, showing him what he could have. It was decision time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.***

[morganaspendragonss]

here’s a prompt for you : -

tk: “you don’t have to stay”

carlos: “before, your mum said that when you shut down, it’s a warning sign... i’m not going anywhere babe”

thank you for the prompt, anon! i hope you like it!

ao3

Carlos knocks on the door to the Strand household, his heart beating out a nervous rhythm as he waits. Owen hadn’t said much on the phone when he’d called him over, just something about a difficult shift and not wanting TK to be alone. It’s why he’s here instead of at home; apparently TK had needed to get out of the station, but Carlos had been on shift himself at the time so he wasn’t able to pick him up.

Carlos knows the situation must be bad; by the sounds of it, TK hadn’t put up much of an argument to Owen bringing him to the house, even though he usually hates being worried over. Not that Carlos could stop if he tried. He’ll always worry over TK, especially when he gets a call from a less-than-composed Owen, asking him to come over as soon as possible.

The door swings open, revealing Owen, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes on his face. “Carlos,” he says, sounding relieved. “Come in.”

He does, hands in his pockets, turning to face Owen. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner - I was at a shift. How is he?”

Owen shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Can’t get a word out of him. I don’t know the full details, I wasn’t on half the calls with them, but Medical were barely able to catch a break all day. Lot of calls, lot of people they couldn’t save. It’s done a number on all of them, but you know how TK is. I think he blames himself.”

Carlos grimaces, heart aching. It’s always difficult when they lose someone on a call, and if it’s been happening all day… TK’s always taken losses to heart, but it’s only gotten worse since he became a paramedic; though he clearly loves his new position, Carlos knows the pressure TK puts on himself to save people has only grown tenfold, as has his guilt whenever he thinks he’s failed.

“I thought he might appreciate you being here more than me,” Owen continues, placing a hand on Carlos’s shoulder.

He nods, ducking his head awkwardly. “I’ll do my best to help, sir.”

Owen smiles and squeezes gently. “You’re already doing it by being here, Carlos.” 

He inclines his head to the corridor leading to TK’s room, and Carlos nods, turning and heading that way. He can feel Owen’s eyes following him, but he brushes the sensation off, pausing a moment before knocking gently on TK’s door, pushing it open when no answer is forthcoming.

The sight that greets him breaks his heart - the curtains are drawn, casting the room in shadow, but TK is still clearly visible, curled in a ball on the bed, staring into space. He doesn’t acknowledge Carlos, not even looking over as he walks in the room.

Carlos circles to the opposite side of the bed, toeing off his shoes before climbing up next to TK. He settles himself against the headboard, taking care not to touch him; he knows it might not be welcome right now.

“Did I ever tell you what Mitchell did the other day?” he starts, keeping his tone as light as possible. “We were chasing a suspect and he jumped up onto this roof, I guess thinking we wouldn’t be able to follow him. Anyway, Mitchell proved him wrong pretty quickly; dude was so shocked he practically surrendered then and there.” Carlos chuckles at the memory, looking down to see TK’s eyes on him, more focused than before. It’s enough for Carlos to reach out tentatively, lightly stroking his hair, and he’s rewarded when TK leans in to the touch. He keeps up the motion as he continues talking, recounting anything he can thinking of - calls he’s been sent on, the plans they’ve made for dinner with his parents, a stupid meme Mateo sent him.

He doesn’t know how long he talks for, but he’s broken from his rambling by the sound of soft sniffling. Carlos moves his hand from TK’s hair, cupping his cheek gently. TK’s eyes meet his for the first time since Carlos walked in, the pain in them clear for all to see.

“It’s okay,” Carlos murmurs, kissing his head. “You’re okay.”

TK squeezes his eyes shut, sniffing, then attempts to push himself into a sitting position. The movement clearly takes more energy than he has, and he ends up slouched awkwardly against the headboard. “‘M sorry,” he mumbles, looking down at his lap. “It was just a hard shift. You don’t have to stay.”

Carlos shakes his head, pulling TK close to him. TK doesn’t resist, practically falling into his chest, and Carlos holds him as tight as he dares. “Oh, Ty,” he says, “there’s nowhere else I could be. Before, your mom said that when you shut down, it’s a warning sign. I’m not going anywhere, babe. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

A long silence follows his words, prompting Carlos to crane his neck to see TK’s face. The moment he does - the moment their eyes meet - TK crumbles, curling in on himself, loud sobs ripping from his throat. Carlos holds him through it, whispering reassurances into his hair and rubbing his arms, not complaining when TK’s tears soak through his shirt, which will undoubtedly be stretched beyond repair with how tight he’s gripping it. It hurts, to see his boyfriend like this, but Carlos would rather this than the terrifying blankness of earlier.

Eventually, TK’s cries quiet, his breathing easing into a more natural rhythm as his grip on Carlos grows slack. Carlos checks him, smiling when he realises he’s asleep, then softly wipes at TK’s face, still wet with tears. Carefully, so as not to wake him, he shifts until they’re both lying down in the bed, TK wrapped in his arms.

Carlos falls asleep not long after; he doesn’t notice when, some time later, Owen peeks around the half-open door. Nor does he see the smile, large and real, that splits his face when he sees them. And if Owen happens to take a picture to send to the teams, well. Neither of them need to know about that.

[extasiswings]

And part 2.  Part 1 is here.  Also on ao3. See, I said you could trust me. 

Eddie feels like an asshole. 

He hates fighting with Buck, inevitably regrets everything he says when tensions are running high—and they had been. He’d been blindsided the night before when Christopher had stopped him before bed and asked dad, are you dating someone? He’d been avoiding that conversation, hadn’t been ready to have it, hadn’t even known how to start it. And even though he stumbled through it successfully enough, he was still—

He hadn’t slept well, spending the night staring up at the ceiling stewing, uncomfortable and upset for reasons he didn’t even really understand. It was just—what the fuck?  Buck can go out with whoever he wants, including apparently Taylor Kelly, and that doesn’t warrant a conversation about what that means for his own relationship with Christopher, but he felt the need to put himself in charge of talking to Chris about what Eddie dating means? 

Eddie’s not going anywhere, he’s the parent. Buck’s the one who doesn’t have to stick around, the one who can walk away whenever he wants to, who can fall in love with whoever he wants and leave—

It’s not fair. And on some level he knows that. But—what was it Buck said after everything with his parents and Maddie? That it’s easier to lash out at the people you know will forgive you? 

...yeah, it’s easier to fight with Buck than look too hard at why exactly he’s so upset at the idea of Buck not always being there. 

But after the shift, he doesn’t feel any better. He just feels like hell. And as he sits in his truck thinking more about why he hadn’t wanted to tell Christopher in the first place, he pulls out his phone and makes a call. 

It’s easy. Simple. There’s no yelling, no drama. 

He tells Ana she’s a wonderful woman—which is true—but that he’s just not in the best place to be dating—which is mostly true—and she says she completely understands and wishes him well, and that’s the end of it. 

It ends and he’s not sad—it barely even registers—which really says about all there is to say. And Eddie goes home and thinks about how the hell he’s going to fix things with Buck. 

He still doesn’t have a clear plan the next morning, but he figures starting with coffee can’t hurt. He knocks on Buck’s door just before eight—he has a key, but with everything...well it’s easier to knock.

Buck opens the door looking rough, unshaven with dark circles under his eyes, and stops. 

“Hey.”

Eddie swallows hard and holds out the coffee cup like a peace offering. 

“I broke up with Ana,” he says, and Buck takes the coffee, stepping aside to let Eddie in. 

Although, that doesn’t stop him from asking—

“Before or after you bit my head off yesterday?”

Eddie winces. “After. Last night.”

“I’m sorry,” he adds after a beat.  He and Shannon never said that much, more often than not fell into the don’t apologize, just sleep it off school of fighting, which rarely fixed anything, just let things get pushed down to fester until some future barb cut deep enough to uncover them again.  But he wants to say it.  He needs to say it.  So, he does. 

Buck looks down at the coffee cup, takes a sip in the silence—then he shakes his head. 

“You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”  His voice is hollow, accepting, and Eddie hates it.  Because he doesn’t want to be right, he doesn’t care about technicalities, about accuracy.  There have been times when he’s needed to play the I’m his parent card—usually when he needs his parents to back the hell off—but it’s not something he likes to do.  It’s not something he’s ever enjoyed doing.

Especially not with Buck.  

“Maybe, but—I still shouldn’t have said it like that. So. I’m sorry.” 

Buck looks at him for a moment.  “I’m sorry, too,” he says finally.  “Whether he knew or not, you’re right that how he feels about you dating—that’s something for the two of you to discuss and it wasn’t my place to bring it up.  I overstepped.”

“I want him to be able to talk to you,” Eddie replies.  “I know that there may be things that come up sometimes that he won’t want to talk to me about and I want him to be able to talk to someone he trusts if I’m not it, I just also don’t want you to feel—”

His tongue ties itself in knots as he looks away, searching for the right words, but they’re all a mess in his head and his throat, a tangled snarl of thoughts—I’m afraid that I’ve been leaning on you too much feeds into I don’t want to lose you which twines through I don’t know what I’m doing—all too much to spit out.  

Buck has a strange look on his face when Eddie looks back.

“Obligated?”  Buck fills in, and his tone is unreadable.

Eddie shrugs.  “I’ve been doing this alone for a long time,” he says.  And I’m tired, he thinks. 

The strange look doesn’t go away—Buck’s brow furrows like he’s trying to figure out a complicated puzzle.

“You know you can trust me to stick around though...don’t you?”

“I—”  It’s dangerous, the highwire he’s walking on, the thin line between I want and I shouldn’t, the whisper reminding him that he never gets to keep the things he wants.

“Eddie?”  Buck prompts.

“I don’t expect your next serious girlfriend to be super comfortable with you helping to parent someone else’s kid, no,” Eddie admits, and waits for the other shoe to drop.

But it doesn’t.

“You’re an idiot,” Buck says.  And Eddie blinks.

“What?”

“I said you’re an idiot,” he repeats.  “If you think I wouldn’t pick Christopher over some random hypothetical woman—and they are all only hypothetical right now—if you think I would get serious with someone who refused to understand that you’re in my life, that he’s in my life—I—you’re an idiot.  Why wouldn’t I put him first?”

“His own mother didn’t.”

“Yeah, well—I’m not Shannon,”  Buck’s voice is steady, and his eyes soften as he adds— “You let me into his life.  You let me be part of your family—you’re my best friend and I know I’m not his dad, but I’m not just going to walk away from that.  I love—”

Eddie’s breath catches.  Buck cuts off and looks away, clearing his throat.

“—Christopher,” Buck finishes.  

Eddie’s pulse is racing, blood rushes in his ears, and he tries to breathe and put his world right, return it to the balance that existed before he thought Buck was about to say—

It was a stupid thought anyway.  He has no reason to think it, but he can’t stop wondering—            

“Why did you break up with Ana?” Buck asks.  The question cuts through Eddie’s reverie and his throat closes for a moment.  Because he’s been turning that question over in his head for hours and while the answer is simple, it also feels...messy.  Especially in this moment.  Like it leads down a path he’s afraid to examine too closely, a slippery slope that goes...he’s not sure where.  But he owes Buck honesty, so he swallows hard and admits—

“I realized I didn’t want her to meet Christopher as my girlfriend. And I didn’t think I ever would.”

Another odd look flickers across Buck’s face.

“She seemed kind of perfect for you,” Buck says.  “Pretty and smart and stable—”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees.  “But she wasn’t what I wanted.”

“So...what do you want?”

A single word whispers through his mind, catches in his throat.  And maybe he is an idiot, because he can be brave when it comes to any number of other things—running into burning buildings or downed helicopters, scaling walls and talking down impersonators who steal firetrucks—and yet, when it comes to this—

“I—”

Buck sets the coffee down and takes a step forward, then another, closing the distance until he’s close enough to touch, until Eddie can feel the heat of him.  

“What do you want?”  Buck repeats quietly, his gaze searching, and Eddie still can’t manage to make the words come.  But something flickers in Buck’s eyes before they settle on resolve and he nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Buck laughs and Eddie doesn’t have a chance to ask why before he’s being kissed.  

Oh.

And words may be difficult, but that he can do. 

“For the record,” Buck says when he pulls back.  “I don’t want to date anyone but you.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Eddie replies, and pulls him down to kiss him again.

When they tell Christopher, they tell him together.  

[cactusnymph]

Prompt fill #5 for @dimension20alphabet:

Escape

[part two to this]

Usually it goes like this:

 The Bad Kids eat lunch together in the cafeteria and otherwise Fabian doesn’t talk much to any of them over the course of his day. It’s not like he’s actively ignoring them, but he’s more on the side of the popular kids. The cool guys. The jocks.

 Meanwhile, the others—well, maybe except for Fig—don’t exactly fit the bill.

 Sure, Fabian would die for any of them, but somehow the social structures at school still feel restrictive in a way that gives him a hard time moving against them.

 Now though, now the unthinkable has happened.

 The Ball is ignoring him.

 Well, not as much as ignoring Fabian as he’s actively fleeing from him the second Fabian comes into view. At first Fabian thought that The Ball had just forgotten something in his locker when he turned around and ran—ran—in the opposite direction of Fabian.

 But it happens again during the first break and Riz is not at their usual table when Fabian joins the others for lunch.

 Everyone is looking at him.

 “What?”, he asks.

 His mood was bad all weekend. After the ridiculous dare he received on Theo’s party The Ball was nowhere to be seen. Both Adaine and Theo—Theo of all people, as if he was The Ball’s friend—followed him out of the room while everyone continued to stare at Fabian accusingly.

 Even Gorgug looked somewhat perturbed, like it was Fabian’s fault that a room full of people had chanted about him kissing The Ball. That hadn’t been his idea!

 “Hey man, you know, you could’ve said ‘no’ without making it sound like, you know, Riz was like, a slimy ghoul or whatever”, Ragh had said to him quietly.

 As far as Fabian knows, Theo and The Ball had ended up making out in one of the empty rooms or behind the house. Those pictures in his head didn’t lead to his weekend getting any better either.

 He trained way too much with his mother. He ate so many kippers that Cathilda asked him if he was feeling alright—which he wasn’t, but he couldn’t exactly explain why. He went for a run three times on Sunday and was still feeling on edge about everything that had happened.

 In the end he crashed on his bed with sore muscles and a scene of The Ball and Theo kissing playing on repeat in his mind that followed him into his dreams.

 And now his friends were looking at him as if he had personally murderer The Ball. With his bare hands. For fun.

 “Did you talk to Riz?”, Adaine wants to know.

 “No.”

 Silence answers him and he looks around the table.

 “What? He saw me in the hallway, turned around and ran away!”, Fabian exclaims angrily. His face is getting hot. He hates all this emotional bullshit and almost wishes he could just go back to being his father’s darling boy instead of his own man, because somehow that seemed way easier.

 “Oh no. Poor Riz”, Kristen says and Fabian almost loses his shit right there.

 Why is it ‘poor Riz’? Why is no one acknowledging what a shit weekend he had? And how fucking dumb that dare was? And how it’s offensive to consider that Riz and Theo made out behind the house while Fabian was being stared at like someone who strangles puppies? And also, he fucking hates it to be ignored.

 He is Fabian Aramais Seacaster.

 He refuses to be ignored!

 “Did you try to text him to apologize?”, Gorgug asks.

 Fabian stares at him.

 “For what?”

 “I mean. You know, because. He looked pretty hurt and like. Isn’t he your best friend?”, Gorgug says quietly and Fabian feels like someone has dropped an iron weight into his stomach.

 “I mean, I guess we’re friends, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, you know—best friends is maybe a little—“

 A voice in his head whispers “Why would you say that, isn’t that a lie?” but Fabian doesn’t get to listen to it as Fig lowers her fork and looks past Fabian at someone right behind him.

 “Oh, no”, Gorgug says very quietly and Kristen gets up halfway from her chair which leads Fabian to turn around just to be faced with The Ball’s very pale and very unhappy face. For a split second Fabian has the opportunity to notice that Riz looks as if he hasn’t slept or eaten for the past two days, but then he notices Fabian looking at him and escapes immediately.

 “Okay, Fabian, I know talking about your feelings is super fucking hard and everything, but get a grip, man”, Fig snaps at him.

 “My feelings are perfectly fine, thank you”, Fabian grits through his teeth but he doesn’t touch the rest of his food and instead spends the rest of his lunch break cursing the universe for having The Ball turn up right at that moment when Fabian announced that them being best friends might be a bit of a stretch.

 Fabian never really had a best friend before.

 Fuck if he knows what that’s even supposed to mean.

 Riz always just went ahead and announced it to the whole world after they’d barely known each other for a week and back then it had been completely ludicrous.

 Now, though.

 Fabian doesn’t know.

 He might have announced that toxic masculinity is dead, but the truth is that it’s still hard dealing with all this emotional bullshit when no one ever really taught him how it works. And he’ll rather be shot than admit that. At least for now.

 It was hard enough to deal with the fact that he never really did anything on his own and was nothing but a pale shadow of his father, but now that he managed to work through that, everything else was still as difficult as before.

 And who the fuck are you supposed to talk to about these things?

 His father is a madman flying a dead dragon through hell.

 His mother heats up whole cantaloupes in hot pans, because she doesn’t even know how to cook some fucking scrambled eggs.

 Cathilda would probably know a thing or two about this stuff, but Fabian has yet to fully grow into the whole Cathilda-is-basically-his-surrogate-mother-and-not-just-his-maid-thing.

 And how is he going to explain this whole mess anyway?

 “Hey Cathilda, I went to this party and someone told me to kiss The Ball and I was like ‘No, that’s ridiculous’ and now everyone is acting like I’m a complete asshole and The Ball doesn’t talk to me anymore, which is quite frankly offensive, because he always says that I’m his fucking best friend.”

 Even to Fabian that sounds ridiculous. And it doesn’t take into account his obsessive thoughts about Theo and Riz kissing or how The Ball might have overheard Fabian saying that they’re not best friends. And his bloodshot eyes with dark shadows under them. And his pale green face with all those freckles.

 And...

 Fabian decides that school can suck his dick on this terrible Monday and he leaves the Aguefort Academy directly after lunch break instead of going to his fighter class.

 It’s not like he needs it, anyway.

 He could probably wipe the floor with his teacher at this point.

 On his way home he receives multiple text messages from his friends.

 “Hey Fabian, where are you? Are you okay?”, from Gorgug.

 “Just text him”, from Adaine.

 “Maybe Jawbone can help you out, he’s really good at this relationship stuff”, from Kristen.

 Relationship stuff?

 What relationship stuff?

 The Ball is not his boyfriend.

 Fabian laughs as he passes a mother with her two kids and she looks slightly concerned about his well being and tugs her children further down the sidewalk.

 What if The Ball wants Theo to be his boyfriend?

 Fabian stops in the middle of the road and stares at his phone. He doesn’t want to talk to Jawbone. Sure, Jawbone is cool and everything. But talking to Jawbone feels too much like admitting that he might have a serious problem, more so than if he maybe just talks to one of his friends.

 For a split second Fabian thinks that wants to talk to Riz until he remembers that that’s not possible right now.

 Because Riz doesn’t talk to him. And also Riz wouldn’t want to talk about anything related to kissing or—or—

 Fabian stuffs his crystal back into his pocket and turns a corner that leads him towards Mordred Manor instead of home.

 Ragh is outside in the vast garden of the manor, wearing a straw hat and some shorts and nothing else while he waters some plants.

 “Hey, what’s up, bro?”, he calls over to Fabian, turns the hose and hits Fabian square in the chest with a jet of cold water. It only takes a few seconds until he’s completely drenched.

 Ragh laughs loudly while he turns off the water and throws the hose down into the grass.

 “You good, man?”, Ragh asks as he walks over to him. Fabian feels like on any other day he might have simply punched Ragh in the face for getting his expensive sneakers wet, but today it just seems like maybe he deserved a shower of cold water.

 “Um—yeah. No. I don’t really know”, he says and his voice reminds him of the time when the whole Leviathan debacle went down. He clears his throat and wipes some water out of his face. “Do you—uh. Have some time to talk?”

 “Sure, dude. Let’s find a spot with a little more shade.”

 Fabian hates the feeling of water in his shoes, so he takes them off and follows Ragh through the garden and into the shade under a big maple tree.

 “What’s up, dude?”, Ragh asks and throws himself down into the ground, pulls the straw hat off his head and leans against the thick trunk of the tree. Fabian sits down cross-legged and puts his sneakers to the side.

 “So—uh”, he starts and then closes his mouth immediately because he hasn’t actually thought this through at all. Ragh looks at him curiously and Fabian wonders if there is a good and nonchalant way to ask the things he wants to ask. Instead of acting cool and composed how he wants to, what comes out of his mouth is:

 “Do you think The Ball and Theo made out?”

 There is a beat of silence in which Fabian considers just getting up and running out of the garden and into traffic. This was not what he is supposed to ask.

 This is not—

 “Dude”, Ragh says and he leans forward to look at Fabian. “You look like you’re about to puke, man.”

 Fabian doesn’t feel great. His chest feels like someone installed iron clasps around it and is pulling his ribs tight and his stomach is doing some acrobatics that it’s absolutely not supposed to do.

 Why did he ask this?

 And what if Ragh says yes?

 Why the fuck does it even bother him?

 The Ball can kiss whoever the fuck he wants!

 “I’m—sure. Fine. Yeah. It’s all—uh. Fine.”

 “Yeah, dude, no offense, but like, it doesn’t look particularly fine to me. So—what you’re asking me is. If Riz and Theo got it going after that whole Truth or Dare thing?”

 Fabian takes a deep breath, which seems particular hard for some reason. This is ridiculous.

 He’s Fabian Aramais Seacaster. He knows how to fucking breathe.

 “I—guess?”

 “Hm”, Ragh says and leans back again. “Not sure if that’s my story to tell, bro. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sorry you feel like shit, but, like. Isn’t that something you should talk to Riz about?”

 Fabian thinks that, if one other person tells him to talk to The Ball, he might actually commit cold blooded murder.

 “Great suggestion, seeing as to how he keeps running away from me like he’s afraid I’m going to breathe fire at him any second”, he growls and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Ragh sighs and cocks his head from side to the other.

 “Would it like, bother you if they actually had made out?”

 Fabian wants to snort and say “No”. What comes out instead is a garbled noise as his brain is bombarded with pictures about Riz and Theo kissing.

 “Woah, dude, okay”, Ragh says and he looks alarmed. “Breathe, man.”

 Fabian can do that. Breathing is really easy, except that it’s not.

 “Okay, dude, Imma just say it now, okay? It’s like ripping a band-aid off!”, Ragh says loudly, grips Fabian’s shoulders and stares at him very intently. “I think you’re totally into Riz.”

 Fabian’s brain feels like it’s suffering from a bad case of frostbite. His thoughts turn sluggish as he tries to process what Ragh just said, but it doesn’t make any sense. Fabian is not into The Ball. He’s not in love with Riz. That is insane.

 “Okay, so, hear me out, bro. Remember how I was totally in love with Dayne? And it took me like a million years to like, get that? Feels pretty similar to what’s happening with you right now, right? Because we’re like, these manly dudes and we’re supposed to be into hot girls and all that stuff, right? So it doesn’t really fit the picture, but it’s totally fine, dude. It’s all good. You can be in love with Riz.”

 Fabian blinks at him. He can hear the words and he can feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards as if to try to form into a grin.

 “Don’t be insane, Ragh. I’m not—That’s—“

 “It bothers you when he’s with other people because you’re fucking jealous, dude. I’ve been there, okay? And it’s like this weird thing of—you’re not allowed to be jealous because that’s fucking weird, right? Because that’s like, your best bro and everything. But then you keep obsessing about him making out with other people and then it’s like, okay, but what if he kissed me and then you feel really fucking bad, right? Because you’re brain shouldn’t go there?”

 For the very first time Fabian imagines what would have happened if he, instead of saying “No, that’s ridiculous”, had actually kissed The Ball.

 He thinks about Riz’ sharp teeth and how he keeps chewing on his bottom lip when he’s nervous and the second Fabian’s brain arrives at Riz’ bottom lip it feels like there is a dam inside his brain breaking.

 He imagines grabbing Riz and pulling him into his lap, pressing his lips against his and hearing Riz make a choked noise against his lips—

 “What the actual fuck.”

 Ragh lets go of his shoulders and nods.

 “Yeah, dude. Intense, right?”

 “But—why?”

 Ragh shrugs and rubs the back of his head with one of his hands. Somehow the cold water drenching Fabian’s clothing feels like a blessing now because his skin seems to be on fire.

 Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—

 “Because, dude.”

 “But like—what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

 “I mean. Sounds to me like you should totally kiss your Ball, bro.”

 Fabian’s stomach does multiple somersaults.

 “But he’s not—into that kind of stuff.”

 Ragh chuckles.

 “Dude, I love Riz, I really do, but I feel like now that you figured this part of the whole deal out I can just tell you, that like. Riz doesn’t want to make out with Theo or pretty much anyone, right? Which is totally fine, bro, don’t get me wrong. But also, like. I’m a hundred percent certain that he would totally kiss you, man.”

 Fabian’s first response is “Of course he does, why shouldn’t he” but then his brain catches up and his skin starts to tingle.

 Maybe this is why kissing Aelwyn for the second time wasn’t really working out. Maybe this is what Aelwyn meant when she said “Well, I suppose we’re not a good match after all”.

 “Riz... wants to kiss me?”

 Ragh nods and grins.

 “Yeah, dude.”

 “Okay. Well—uh. I have to go.”

 “Don’t forget your shoes!”, Ragh shouts after him but Fabian doesn’t give a rat’s ass about his shoes as he takes off.

 Maybe he can unpack all of this shit later. Maybe he should actually talk to Jawbone. Maybe this is going to be yet another thing that makes him different from his father and as soon as he has some time to think it through he can maybe arrive at the conclusion that that isn’t a bad thing.

 At some point he stops running because he actually has no idea where Riz is. Is he still at school? At home? At his damn office? Fabian pulls out his crystal and hastily types a message to Riz.

 “Where are you???? We need to kiss!”

 He deletes the last word and types “talk” instead. Fabian watches with his breath held as three dots appear on his screen very shortly before they disappear again. He waits in the middle of the street, no shoes on, dripping wet. People passing him by look as though they’re concerned for his mental state but Fabian couldn’t care less.

 Maybe now is not the time to be manly about his feelings if he actually wants to fucking kiss his damn best friend.

 “I need to talk to my best friend”, he types.

 The dots reappear immediately.

 “at the office”

 Fabian stuffs the crystal back into his pocket, considers calling the Hangman to drive him over there but then decides that he doesn’t want to wait for him to arrive.

 The last time Fabian was in Riz’ office there was a terribly creepy doppelganger of Riz trying to kill him, but he pushes the thought to the side as he rushes into the building, dripping water everywhere as he heads up the stairs.

 Fabian doesn’t think he can manage another emotional talk today because the last one left him completely drained and exhausted, but the second that he spots Riz behind his desk ripping some papers in a nervous craze his heart leaps into his throat and goes into overdrive immediately.

 Fuck.

 He rips open the door and Riz flinches so hard that he sends all the papers flying. Then he stares at Fabian with his huge, yellow eyes.

 “Why are you wet? And where are your shoes?”, he wants to know, looking completely confused.

 “Doesn’t matter”, Fabian says, rounds the desk and grabs Riz by the shoulders. “We need to talk about Saturday.”

 Riz turns his face away and there is a dark green blush on his cheeks and the back of his nose. Now that Fabian knows what his damn problem is he realizes how fucking badly he actually wants to kiss Riz.

 “Oh—well. Yeah. Haha, weird, right? Don’t worry about it, it was totally ridicu—“

 “I should have done it”, Fabian interjects. Riz’ eyes grow impossibly wider.

 “Wh—what?”

 “I should have done it. Kiss you, I mean. We should have kissed.”

 Who would have thought that the son of the famous Bill Seacaster would die of a heart attack at the age of eighteen while wearing no shoes and dripping wet clothes.

 “Wh—why?”

 “Because I—“

 Fabian didn’t actually get that far in his head. He grabs Riz’ shoulders tighter and fuck, he can’t bring himself to say the words.

 “Because I don’t want you to kiss anyone else”, is what he manages in the end and he watches closely as Riz’ swallows and the dark shade of green on his face grows impossibly darker still.

 “Did you mean it?”, he asks quietly, his voice raspy and hoarse.

 “Mean what?”

 “That—in your text message. About—you know. Being best friends or whatever.”

 Fabian takes a deep breath.

 “Yeah.”

 Riz makes a very small “Oh” sound and then, all of a sudden, Fabian stumbles backwards with his arms full of Goblin. It occurs to him that this is the first time they actually hugged.

 “So—uh. Can I? Um—kiss you?”, he asks and his voice sounds like he swallowed a bunch of sand.

 “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

 It turns out that kissing someone you’re actually into is better than winning a Bloodrush game, better than dancing, better than pretty much everything he’s ever done before. Riz holds onto him as if his life depended on it and Fabian feels like he won’t let his best friend down anytime soon or he might just fall over and die.

 It occurs to him that this must be Riz’ first kiss and something inside him purrs contently at the thought of that as he lets himself sink down into Riz’ chair so Riz is sitting in his lap.

 “Thought you were into that Theo dude”, he mumbles against Riz’ lips.

 “’m not.”

 “Yeah, I get that now.”

 “I’m uh—pretty much only into you. So...”

 Fabian’s heart is doing a very silly little dance in his chest but all he can bring himself to say is “Yeah”. All the other words that he probably should say get stuck somewhere half the way up his throat because his heart is beating too fast.

 “So... no more Truth or Dare”, Riz says sheepishly.

 “No, definitely not.”

 “Cool.”

 Very cool indeed, Fabian thinks, as he kisses Riz again.

[shinjaeha]

ipytm ep 3 (thoughts + spoilers)

this is going to be a tough post for me to do bc honestly...this ep just left me feeling so run down. i know that the cast and crew have always strived for realism and authenticity with this series, but this one was just a lot to take in :/ my thoughts are gonna be even more all over the place than usual but idec at this point. having to rewatch this ep again is really fucking hard (even harder than itsay ep 4 bc even though that makes my heart ache, i still feel some sense of satisfaction from the development we get...this just leaves me feeling defeated in every way).

you know the drill: not an analysis, just me ranting as usual bc free therapy (and boy do i need it after this one)!! i had so many feelings watching this ep (esp towards teh but what’s new), so here goes.

we begin with the drama students rehearsing for jai’s new play, and the introduction of the plum wine which will be the recurring motif in this whole ep. the use of the plum wine in this also kind of reminds me of how teh initially disliked coconuts until he started falling in love with oh-aew and started to like them instead...i’m guessing that’s the parallel they’re trying to draw with the plum wine comparison in this.

teh’s having a hard time getting into character (which we already know from last ep was always going to be one of the toughest challenges for him as an actor). his character in the play is supposed to have a sex scene, but he’s struggling with this bc he can’t put himself in his character (akin’s) shoes, so jai ends rehearsals early.

jai gives them all logbooks which he basically wants them to treat as diaries where they’ll write everything they feel/learn and hand it back to him (he’ll be the only one reading them). ngl this already had me feeling kind of yikes (esp now as i rewatch this knowing how everything went down) since jai already has inside knowledge about teh’s feelings on his relationship with oh-aew which he can take advantage of :/ more on that later though...

it’s sad to me that so much time has passed since teh’s argument with khim and he's STILL avoiding her. khim was someone that he respected immensely (and was such a great mentor for him) so it just sucks to see that their relationship has deteriorated so much since the first two eps. teh might have had his reconciliation moment with oh-aew last ep, but there’s still a lot that he’s not ready or willing to address yet.

i understand that teh’s just encouraging jai about his work when he tells him to stop having others comment on it, but at the same time, i disagree with him bc i think it IS important to get other peoples’ opinion about your work. how else will you ever be able to see things from other perspectives if you don’t?

anyway, teh tells jai he’s seeing a play, and jai asks teh if he’s bringing oh-aew...the look on teh’s face is telling enough that things aren’t going great between them (at least on his end). this brings us to the logbook scene, where teh’s homework for the day is to write about the similarities and differences between himself and his character in the play. this gets teh to reflect on how he feels his relationship with oh-aew is changing, or specifically, how oh-aew seems to be changing so much that teh feels like he’s becoming someone else entirely...and does that mean that he still loves him the same?

i feel like this is a fairly common issue with people that have been in a relationship for a while (and this is their third year together now), so i understand how teh might start having doubts. it’s nothing that oh-aew’s done, it’s just that sometimes all these small changes can keep mounting up to the point that they feel much bigger than they actually are. oh-aew’s really just doing what everyone else does, which is grow and change as they get older, but teh’s still stuck in the past trying to hold onto what they used to have instead of evolving with oh-aew. the way teh picks at all these little changes of oh-aew does make me think that he’s self-sabotaging himself. he’s just so afraid and insecure that oh-aew will change so much he leaves him, that he has to nitpick at reasons why oh-aew’s the one that’s growing away from him (though when we watch the whole ep we know that that’s not the case at all). it’s like a ‘if i push him away first, then he won’t push me away’ sort of self-defence mechanism. either way, teh’s a constant overthinker...and he’s always been his own biggest enemy since the start, so it makes perfect sense to me that he would do this to himself here too.

i know that they’ve been together for years at this point, so things are not quite as exciting as they used to be, but it hurts to see oh-aew be so happy about getting an A for his class, and teh be so unenthused about it. oh-aew has to basically beg teh to give him attention and praise. remember when teh used to get so worried when oh-aew did badly in chinese class...and now it’s like whatever to him just bc he’s not tutoring him/they’re not in the same major anymore :((( i know it’s prob both bc teh’s still hurting that oh-aew transferred majors, and from seeing oh-aew succeed while he feels like he’s failing, but still...

also, not inviting him to see the play with him bc he thought oh-aew wouldn’t be interested/oh-aew kept falling asleep whenever they saw plays together ;;; i get the reasoning from both povs, but it still is nice to be asked :(

so one thing i have to say about the progression of their relationship here is that i just feel this huge disconnect from last ep and this ep?? i know it’s bc of the time skip (since it’s a year later basically), but to go from the end of ep 2, where they’re promising to love each other forever, and then to teh feeling disillusioned/as though he’s falling out of love with oh-aew basically right after that?? it’s so jarring. i feel like we lose so much with these time skips bc the transition from ep 2 to ep 3 is never really shown, so there’s this lack of flow there. like we’ve skipped a step entirely and something’s missing. this is the disadvantage of only focussing on one year per ep since there’s not enough time to explore as much character and relationship development when we’re only seeing an hour long snippet of an entire year. it just makes things feel superficial since so much of what we should be seeing is missing...and we basically have to fill in all the gaps ourselves.

okay, back to oh-aew ranting to his friends about how he feels like his relationship with teh is fading away bc they don’t have the same interests anymore, but also wondering if that’s just normal for long-term relationships. bless that boy that came to ask oh-aew for his ig :’) at least he knows that he’s wanted and has options, even if he obv turns him down bc of teh (for now).

plug and mangpong are dating!!!!!!! and mangpong does a horrible job of trying to hide it 😂 sidenote, but i love the way pp delivers lines sometimes (like the “just shocked”), he’s so cute. plug and mangpong’s legs touching...and the wave of nostalgia that came over me (and oh-aew) during that ;;; oh-aew seeing their blossoming relationship would make him reminisce back to his own experience of falling in love with teh...when everything was still so fluttery and new. so when teh texts him about using his car to help jai move, he looks happy. like he wants to rekindle those feelings again too.

that being said, it’s kind of sad to me how even jai shows more interest in oh-aew’s major than teh (when he asks him for his opinion on how to get people interested in his play). oh-aew’s got some good ideas and is more than willing to help (esp since he wants to connect and find a common interest with teh again). also, just bc oh-aew doesn’t want to be an actor anymore doesn’t mean that he’s completely uninterested in it. god, watching this part again hurts bc oh-aew looks so happy and optimistic. he worked so hard to help teh (and jai) only for them to betray him like that. it made me mad originally, but now it just breaks my heart :(

jai’s running acting classes again for his play, and this time it’s a workshop to help them tap into their feelings. it’s like an intimacy exercise where they give one another consent to touch certain body parts. teh is still struggling a lot with this. i think teh craves intimacy, but as he doesn’t feel that connection in his personal life to oh-aew anymore, so it’s difficult for him to draw on his experiences. he can’t even remember the first time he had sex with oh-aew properly anymore. as usual, teh’s too in his own head to just go with the flow and ~feel things (which isn’t new since teh’s had problems with this since itsay), but it’s def something that he’ll need to learn how to do if he wants to become an actor. he’s trying, but the fact that he can’t get to that place makes him feel even more insecure than ever that he might never be able to get there. imo one of the reasons teh works so hard, and is as driven and ambitious as he is, is that he’s afraid that he’ll never be good enough. he puts so much pressure on himself, and the issue with that is that he’ll never be able to live up to his expectations that way.

teh is also very much alone now. oh-aew has his group of friends to talk to about his relationship with teh, but teh just has jai at this point. he’s pushed khim away...and he and oh-aew aren’t communicating effectively (which is also why they’re on SUCH different wavelengths in terms of where their relationship is at), so there’s literally only jai for him to talk to about all his relationship issues. and to me at least, jai seems to have ulterior motives (particularly when you consider that the subject matter of his play is pretty much the same thing that teh’s going through rn). it’s times like this when i do feel kind of bad for teh, but then again, he brought this upon himself the way that he almost always does...and it leaves me frustrated instead.

jai kissing his professor though...also their conversation?? i have QUESTIONS...

that whole interaction with teh when jai catches him spying on him and the professor was SO awkward. idk what it is about teh but i have never encountered a character that has given me as much secondhand embarrassment as he does. when he starts touching the bars and avoiding eye contact i just- why, teh why?????

moving on, i’m thinking there’s prob more to that scene that we don’t know about bc jai’s shifty like that...but it’s purpose is also to shift teh’s perception of jai. before this, he pretty much just saw jai as his friend and mentor, but seeing him kiss someone else pushes him to think of jai in another less platonic light. like the first spark of attraction.

the both of them go to see the mime show (babymime), and i know that the point of this is so teh can learn to just feel and let go the way that the mimes in this play do, but idk it’s just kind of funny to me the contrast between the last scene and this one. 

the leg touching scene again but this time with teh and jai...thanks, i hate it :/// 

teh’s already feeling like he and oh-aew’s interests are making them drift apart, so by connecting with jai, it’s that initial feeling of attraction that he used to feel with oh-aew all those years ago. jai is that cool senior that he respects...he’s goal-oriented and has so much in common with him (in a way that he feels that oh-aew doesn’t anymore), so it doesn’t altogether surprise me that teh latches onto jai in this way. esp when all their conversations revolve around what teh’s most passionate about, and what dreams they’re striving towards in the future.

it doesn’t surprise me bc teh’s affections shifted in a similar way from tarn to oh-aew when he was first starting to realise his feelings for oh-aew too (though at least he and tarn were never officially dating during that time...)

there’s a genuineness to the way teh praises and encourages jai that isn’t there when he’s doing the same to oh-aew :( and that coupled with teh lying to oh-aew about him having dinner with jai while oh-aew is at home, completely oblivious, painstakingly photoshopping his boyfriend’s face on the poster of the play TO HELP TEH instead of doing his own uni work, makes me so fucking upset for oh-aew.

it’s interesting to see how different their personalities are even when it comes to something as simple as the way they read their texts. oh-aew is so ready to accept whatever teh tells him at face value, but teh overthinks everything to the point where he jumps to a certain conclusion in his head about it instead.

but yeah, it’s just really tough to see oh-aew try so hard for teh, only to see teh do nothing back for oh-aew in return. there’s only so much one side can give. it’s the absolute lack of effort on teh’s part to even try to make things work with oh-aew that is the most frustrating thing of all. oh-aew is carrying their entire relationship rn and it makes me feel all “and for what?? why should he even bother??” about it.

sneaking to sit at the river with jai is like this forbidden, new experience, so it just enhances that feeling of attraction that teh is already feeling towards jai. and esp when he starts telling him about his previous relationship with james, the significance of the plum wine, and how jai ended up breaking up with him. since it’s reflective of teh’s own experiences atm (even in how he kind of self-sabotages himself to push people/oh-aew away first), he clearly takes it to heart. and it makes him want to do an even better job since the play is an autobiographical one for jai. not to mention, teh supposedly being the only one that jai told his story to makes him feel ‘special’......and we all know how teh likes feeling as though he’s special to someone. you can see it in how dejected he is when he thinks jai only told him his story bc he wanted him to get into character better, but perks up the moment jai says he actually told him bc teh’s been doing such a good job (and to encourage him). like i mentioned before, teh’s already feeling vulnerable and isolated from everybody else, so hearing any sort of praise (and esp when it’s from someone that he looks up to as much as jai), is going to pull him in.

when they were hiding from the security guard i was like ughhh i know where this is heading and i. don’t. like. it........

the problem is that i know where teh stands on this. like i know that there’s some attraction on his end. but i don’t know where jai stands. is he intentionally manipulating teh’s feelings for his play? is there any sincerity there? i think it’s obvious that he can tell teh is attracted to him from the glance that they share in this scene, but i can’t get a handle on what he actually wants (which i guess is the point of making his character as mysterious as it is but still). and if he can tell, and he doesn’t actually like teh back in that way, it makes the end scene even more yikes imo.

hmmm teh lying in the pool trying to recreate that feeling right before their first kiss when the both of them just let everything go and sank down into the water. that’s how you KNOW the next scene is supposed to be angsty...bc just like how their first underwater kiss had a sense of sadness to it bc they were hiding, their first (on screen) sex scene has that same sense of sadness, only this time it’s bc teh’s using his attraction to jai/his method actor desire to get into character to fuel the sex instead of bc he genuinely just wants to have sex with oh-aew. and if his reasoning for the sex is bc of that, then his task to recreate their first sexual experience will never live up to the actual first time they had sex (when they BOTH wanted it, and there were no other factors involved).

that’s not to say i don’t think teh doesn’t love oh-aew anymore. i think that there HAS to be some level of love still there amidst all of the confusion, but it feels a lot more like he’s testing his love/attraction to oh-aew during this scene (sort of like how he did with tarn in itsay) than a proper ‘love scene’. like he’s trying to reconfirm his feelings, whilst using oh-aew as inspiration for his role at the same time. it makes my heart ache that this is the first love scene we get from them this series, and it’s marred by the context of what we know is going on in teh’s head. like i said, it’s this permeating sadness throughout...and just knowing that oh-aew has absolutely NO IDEA what’s going on with teh and why he suddenly wants to have sex makes it worse. oh-aew’s been trying to make things work, and in his mind, teh spontaneously coming over like this prob makes him think that things are getting better between them since this is also the closest thing to teh showing any sort of initiative to work on their relationship in this ep so far...

and that’s not also taking away how beautifully this whole scene is shot. i’ve always loved the way that teh and oh-aew play and flirt with each other (bkpp’s chemistry is honestly unparalleled!!) so it was nice to see them be kind of playful before they started kissing again (if you ignore how sad this scene really is). i LOVE the inter-splicing between their first time on the beach and the present. the way the score swells, and little moments where you can see their feet and fingers interlocked on the beach. it gives you such a visceral visual (and totally takes me back to itsay days when that sort of imagery was used a lot more). i just hate that since we know the truth, this scene is more uncomfortable than satisfying despite how nicely shot it is.

i wish we got more domestic moments from them. i know their relationship has sort of grown past those initial moments of flirtation, but it truly makes me sad that we don’t get to see more of them as a couple in general in ipytm. moments like this where they’re lying in bed cuddling each other are so few and far between that i always feel like i have to cherish every little fleeting piece of fluff that i can get. even if idek if this can really be called fluff since the context sort of ruins it.

oh-aew’s still got his heart attack bag :’)))

he was soooooo happy when he met up with his friends 😭 but also, how the hell is it possible for teachers to move deadlines up like that. i FEEL that panic... poor oh-aew...

teh’s in rehearsals again and this time he’s wearing his moon shirt which...i do NOT need those ep 3 itsay vibes rn when i was already dreading this last ten minutes with everything i have in me :((( but anyway, jai’s brought plum wine to class and we know that teh doesn’t usually drink, but he does this time. he tells teh that the taste will change over time (it symbolises the ageing of the relationship process), and teh says it’s a pity he won’t get to taste it next time since jai wants to go abroad to study. then teh tells him he’s worked on the acting exercise and wants to try it out with jai, and i feel like we all knew where it was going to go from here.........

they really had to hammer it in with him missing oh-aew’s call too huh :/

as soon as they started the touching/intimacy exercise again i was just waiting for the catch. even on this rewatch i’m still sitting here chanting “don’t do it teh don’t do it” knowing full well that he kisses jai and there’s no changing that. but then when they cut to oh-aew walking up the stairs with the posters and you hear just how much time he’s sacrificed to help teh/jai on this...sacrificing time EVEN NOW just to go over to their uni to give them the posters when he has a presentation due tomorrow that he and his friends still haven’t finished working on...it’s just heartbreaking knowing what he’s going to end up walking in on.

whether it’s itsay or ipytm, teh’s default state is confusion. so while i think that there’s a certain amount of attraction towards jai there of course, i kind of get the feeling that he’s confusing his feelings of connection with jai (bc of their shared interests and passion) with him falling in love with jai. i feel like his attraction to jai reminds him of what it was like when he was first attracted to oh-aew, and since things have changed so much between him and oh-aew, it’s like he wants to recreate and capture that feeling again with jai (which is also why he wears the moon shirt...he wore that during itsay ep 3 beach scene, which was the moment when the attraction really started to burn between him and oh-aew). he can’t feel that same spark with oh-aew anymore, so he transfers his feelings to jai since, at this point in time, he feels closer to jai than anyone else. instead of growing alongside oh-aew, it’s like he’s choosing to revert back to a time when he was happier.

we know that teh has always been the type of person that will act on his impulses when he feels them. that’s WHY it was so hard to watch...bc i knew while watching that last scene, he was never going to restrain himself or put a stop to those feelings bleeding over into action. and esp not when it could benefit him in some way with his acting too.

in the end, it just makes me so devastated for oh-aew. and i really hope that he doesn’t let this go bc he thinks it’s just teh method acting or getting into character or whatever...i know that teh’s feeling a lot of conflicting things rn, but that’s not an excuse. he really fucked this one up.

the thing is, it’s not that i don’t think teh is capable of acting this way (i’ve seen a few people say that this is ooc for him, but it really isn’t? this confusion and impulsiveness has always been a part of his character from the very start...he was always the one that had the most trouble dealing with his feelings out of the two of them), but the time skips don’t do him any favours bc we lose all those moments that take him to what he’s currently feeling. when we don’t have those moments, then it’s a lot harder to sympathise with him. in itsay, bc we always knew how teh got from point a to point b, even if he did frustrating/silly things, i always understood where he was coming from. i always felt for him. i GOT his struggles, which was why i was always able to empathise with what he was going through. in ipytm, he just comes off as unlikeable bc of how superficial his feelings seem (from what we’re being shown on screen at least).

falling out of love with your significant other/starting to feel things for someone else is obv a fairly common experience, so i don’t blame teh for FEELING like this, but it’s how he treats oh-aew throughout this that doesn’t sit right with me. even if you feel like you’re falling out of love with someone, or that they’ve changed since the first time you fell in love with them, you’d think there’d be some motivation to at least TRY to make things work with them before giving up. we never see that from teh at all. instead, he just see him becoming infatuated with jai (so we barely see teh/oh-aew together in the first place). and while i can see now that a lot of this is due to his own insecurities and inadequacies, it’s also just so disrespectful to oh-aew who's the one that we see putting in all this time and effort (it calls back to their whole “don’t give my time to others” scene in itsay bc we see oh-aew giving so much of his time to teh through helping him out with his play, while teh’s giving that time that should be for oh-aew to jai now). no matter his reasoning, watching teh act that way towards oh-aew does make it increasingly hard to root for him. there’s just too big a disparity in how the two of them choose to act and devote their time to their relationship.

what’s frustrating is that in itsay, teh would fuck up but he would always try to make amends with oh-aew in some way. he would always come forward to try to sort things out after...but there’s nothing here. even after their dinner fight in ep 2, it’s OH-AEW that reaches out to him first (even though it’s teh’s fault that they fought in the first place). where’s that boy that dressed up in his old school uniform in order to talk to oh-aew at his school? or made a whole chinese idioms scrapbook for oh-aew? or gave up his uni admission for oh-aew? i understand that characters and motivations change (and he was obv hopped up on his first love with oh-aew at the time), but it’s just really, really sad to see teh keep messing up and not even try to meet oh-aew halfway with this. yes, you can fuck up, but there are only so many times you can keep fucking up before it starts to look more like a pattern of shitty behaviour than a few forgivable missteps.

another issue is that there’s been so much focus on teh and his flaws that a lot of the time oh-aew comes off as a side character to teh’s story. previously, i understood that since teh was grappling with his sexuality. it made sense that his journey was the primary focus of the plot and character development. but i always felt that there was more room to explore oh-aew’s story (and i thought that we would get a lot more of that in ipytm...esp after ep 1), but it just feels like we kind of skimmed past all of oh-aew’s growth and struggles adjusting to bangkok/uni life so we could turn the attention back to teh again. i just hate that we never get to see more of how oh-aew’s changed in teh’s eyes (other than the surface level things like his hair, new car and major), and that we never get to see more of oh-aew’s life when it’s not related to teh in general. i hope that we’ll get more of oh-aew in the last two eps, but i really don’t know what they’ll give us anymore.

at this point, i don’t even want them as endgame anymore given everything that’s happened in the recent ep. and it pains me so much to say that bc teh/oh-aew are so immensely important to me, but they’re just in such different places in life. and teh esp has so much more growing to do (i think i said this last week too? teh...). oh-aew deserves to be with someone that can see his worth as he is (that won’t cheat on him for one!!). i just want him to be with someone that can make him happy. what i wanted most for them out of this was for the two of them to grow to a better place (together and as individuals), and while i still want that for them as individuals, it’s hard for me to want them to be happy together anymore. at least for the time being.

i’m kind of at a loss for how they’re gonna work through this (and i genuinely want oh-aew to be able to explore his options too...particularly with someone that will actually treat him better than teh’s treating him atm). so at this point it’s kind of looking to me like a break up is inevitable? but i do think it’s necessary  for both of them rn. i feel so heartbroken about it though...like ipytm is actually making ME go through the breakup...breaking up with all my beloved itsay teh/oh-aew memories :((( anyway, i think a break up is also conveniently the best time to put a time skip tbh...so we’ll see if that does end up happening now in future eps.

this one took such a long time to write up bc i wrote like a quarter of this RIGHT after i finished watching the ep (so you can clearly tell which parts were me right after the ep, and which parts were me after i had some time to sit on what happened 😂), but i thought it was best to take a bit of a break. i didn’t rewatch it again until i calmed down a little and sorted out my thoughts some more (though i know this is still pretty messy). but yeah, i’m still very much interested in watching how they things are going to progress from here...but i can’t deny how sad i’ve been feeling after this.

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 13: Perception

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

A/N: Maybe it's inevitable. Definitely cried like an adult while writing parts of this. I'm a weepy baby. I hope you imagine an ugly MySpace style sparkly gif every time Y/N uses the word "kidnapping". As always, appreciate you guys <3

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Buzz.

You peeked one eye open and caught sight of the smart phone dancing around on the nightstand close by. Strong arms were wrapped around you and there was no mistaking who they belonged to this time. Liu. You’d fallen asleep next to each other and somewhere along the line, in unconsciousness, he’d cuddled against you.

This was fine.

This was all fine.

The phone continued to dance and nearly vibrated right off the edge of the nightstand and onto the floor. You grabbed it from its place near the edge and wiped your eyes with your other hand. Johnny Cage. Rubbing your eyes again, you checked the time on the phone. It was nine at night. Carefully you snuck out of Liu’s arms without waking him. You’d mastered sneaking out of bed while you’d been dating Kung Lao. He was so heavy a sleeper that in the beginning of your relationship you had wound up trapped beneath his arms for hours. Then when you tried to get away, you’d wake him up. Eventually you’d mastered maneuvering from his grasp without waking him because waking him led to fooling around or talking and then you were either trapped having to pee or late for some responsibility or another.

Liu adjusted behind you but didn’t wake up. You fixed your askew shirt, grabbed your keycard, and then answered the phone and stepped into the hallway, carefully closing the door behind you.

“This is weird. I don’t think I even got your name earlier.” Johnny spoke without waiting for you to acknowledge him. You chuckled beneath your breath then cleared the sleepiness from your throat. “I know that may seem like it’s a pretty common thing for me but…”

“Y/N. You can call me Y/N.” You interrupted what you were sure was a very cleverly crafted explanation about his popularity and fame. Johnny Cage seemed like the type to be easily derailed from a topic with banter. You’d become skilled at wrangling men like that given that Kung Lao had been your other half for so long.

“And you’re from China, right?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Just trying to make sure I spell your name right…” His voice was distant, as if he spoke nowhere near the phone. You spelled your name for him with a sigh. “Is that…?”

“That is not important right now.” You interrupted him again. You had to keep him on task or this conversation was going to go on forever.

“Right, yes. I’ve been thinking about this morning.”

“And?”

“I was hoping to hash out the details with you guys before I officially agree to anything.” Johnny Cage tried to sound like he was bargaining with you but you were already convinced that he was joining you. This seemed like a formality. Or like he was dragging it out. Why? You couldn’t think of a good reason. Maybe to try and land a date with Sonya? You didn’t think that was going to happen and also it seemed petty. Then again, you and Liu were a hot mess in the middle of all of this so you couldn’t criticize anyone else’s motives. “I’ve begun clearing my schedule for the next few weeks but I’m a busy man, you know. Takes time.”

“I understand that. I’m sure that we can meet tomorrow to answer any questions you may still have.” There was no point in arguing with him on that. It was a reasonable request though not entirely necessary. Besides, you were still ready to jump to the kidnapping stage of this endeavor. If he caused too much trouble tomorrow then you would promptly lure him somewhere quiet and knock him out. Then you’d go from there. You could probably convince Cole to help you if you had to but you didn’t think it would go that far.

“That’s exactly what I hoped to hear!” You could hear the smile on Johnny’s face. “When we’re off the phone, I’ll text you where to meet me.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You yawned.

“I wanted to ask you something. You seem like a nice woman.”

Oh, how misguided a man Johnny Cage was. Oddly trusting for someone in his position. Here you were planning out an elaborate scheme to kidnap him and drag him to China and he thought you were nice. It was probably the tea thing from earlier. Ah, well. You’d fooled him.

“Ask away, Mr. Cage.”

“Just Johnny, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.”

Then he sighed as if trying to word his question or embarrassed to ask it. You waited patiently. There was no need to rush him. You weren’t sure that Johnny Cage could be rushed. “Are you guys for real? Or are you just dicking me around? No one put you up to this, right?” After everything that you had showed him that morning, he was still stuck on the idea of this being a prank. Was Johnny often victim to silly pranks? Did he find himself the butt end of a joke amongst friends? It was funny to imagine.

“I know that this is… what’s the saying? Difficult medicine to take?” You weren’t so good with the English idioms. Maybe that was why he thought you to be nice. You were far more sarcastic in your native tongue. Your English was good but stuff didn’t always come out right.

“Hard pill to swallow but I got the point.” Johnny chuckled. “…so yeah? It’s true?”

“Trust me, Mr. Cage, I have much better things to do than play silly pranks on you.” You reassured him but he scoffed as if insulted. “That and I’d never heard of you before this.” It sounded like you’d punched him. Ah, yes, the delicate male ego.

“Low blow. Never heard of me?” You could picture the horror on his face.

“No offense meant.”

“I bet you just didn’t remember my name. Dragon Fist? Cage Match? Aquatic Assault? Exiting the Dragon of Death? A personal favorite of mine…”

“Exiting the Dragon of Death?”

“Yeah? You’ve heard of that one?”

“No.”

“Come on, don’t play with me like that.”

“I couldn’t resist.” You spoke over him as he made to list more movies. “I’m sorry to have offended you.” You were certain this could go on all night and you were still tired and now you were hungry too. Your appetite was back and you were far less shaky than you’d been earlier that day. “I did watch one of your films last night with a friend so that I could be familiar with your movement patterns.”

“For that crazy duplication thing you did?”

“For my arcana, yes.”

“…and?”

“It was a fun movie.”

“Which one did you watch?”

“Mr. Cage, this is a conversation for another time. Can we stay on topic?”

“Just Johnny, please.” Apparently no, he could not stay on topic. You pulled the phone away from your face so he wouldn’t hear your heavy sigh. Hearing footsteps behind you, you turned and found Cole approaching holding an ice bucket and offering a wave. He stopped next to you and nodded toward the phone. You mouthed that it was Johnny Cage. Then he offered you a thumbs up, pointed toward the end of the hall and walked away, presumably to get ice. “I’m making a choice to trust you. I don’t think you’re lying to me. I hope I’m making the right choice.”

“I’m a terrible liar so good choice.” He continued going on about something but your brain was tired of the babble. You needed food! This conversation felt like it would have gone on all week if you let him talk the way he wanted to. “Can I trust you no to dick us around?”

“I promise. You’ve got a deal, Y/N.”

“Text me the address and we’ll meet you just before noon.” You assured him.

“Got it. See you then.” Johnny hung up and you breathed a sigh of relief. At least this part of your trip was going smoothly. Seconds later your phone buzzed with a message from the same number. You selected the address and put it into the browser of your phone after figuring out how that worked. From what you could tell, the address seemed legit. A house by the shore. Of course, a beach house. Why wouldn’t he take the opportunity to show off?

“How’d it go?” Cole returned with his bucket full of ice.

“Mr. Cage is going to meet with us tomorrow to discuss details.”

“I anticipated us having to use your devious plan B so I’m surprised he’s going to meet with us.” Cole adjusted the bucket in his arms. “What do you think of him? I’m having a hard time taking him seriously.”

“I meant it when I said that I thought he was funny earlier. Honestly, if we had met without any of this pretense, I think that he and I would get along quite well.” You shrugged. “I also think that he’s going to do what he thinks is right if that’s what you were really asking. Seems like the type to talk a big game but ultimately a good guy.”

“That’s optimistic of you.”

“I usually have a good read on people.”

“I can tell.” Cole gestured toward your door. “You just getting in? Maybe not.” He looked down at your bare feet.

“I was napping.”

“And you came into the hallway to take a call?”

“Yeah, I was uh… going to grab food.”

“Without your shoes?”

“Are you always this nosy, Cole?”

“Not really but this afternoon has been especially boring. Plus, your reactions are entertaining.” Cole smirked. “You have more color now. That’s good to see.”

“Why does no one believe me when I say I’m just tired?” You gestured back to the room. “I’m gonna go.”

“We’re about to grab a bite to eat if you want to join us. Late dinner.”

“No, no, thank you though. That’s sweet. I’m okay.”

“You just said you were going to get food.” Cole laughed.

“…I think I’ll order something.” You pointed to your bare feet but was sure your expression was one that screamed you’d been caught in the most pointless of lies. Cole had inadvertently talked you into a corner. You hadn’t even meant to lie! It had just happened. This was why you didn’t usually bother.

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah, turns out I am. I’m not good at it.”

“I can see that.”

The door to your room opened behind you and Liu Kang peeked into the hall, still looking sleepy.

“Hello Cole” Liu stepped into the hall and kept the door propped open a crack, back leaned against it. Then he bowed his head politely in greeting. He turned to you and spoke Chinese as if this weren’t suspicious. You didn’t think it had the intention that he wanted it to have. “Everything okay?”

“I had a call to take with Mr. Cage. No big deal.” You replied in English to try and make it seem like you had less to hide. Why? Because Cole was already giving you a look as if to say it was ‘nothing’. You sighed. “I’m just about done.”

“Good.” Liu replied in English. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You snapped at him without meaning to then took a cleansing breath. He was just worried about you but you were tired of the worry. You felt far better than you had earlier. A few hours of sleep had done you good. “I really am fine.” Liu bowed his head politely to both you and Cole and then disappeared back into the hotel room.

“What was it you were saying earlier? About that being nothing?” Cole teased in a whisper after you made no move to offer any explanation.

“If you recall, I also said it was none of your business.” There was no point in trying to lie again. You folded too easily. Instead, you’d be evasive. That was easier. Avoiding the truth was far easier than twisting it at least for you.

“Liu looked pretty tired. You guys have a nice nap?”

“We fell asleep talking.” You narrowed your eyes at his implications but also hated how close he was to the truth.

“Sure, is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

You shoved his shoulder with a laugh. “Your ice is melting Cole. It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, I’m going to have to mentally shift my definition of that word to better fit what I’m seeing.” He teased. “You’re trouble, Y/N. I’m making note of it.”

“You have no idea, Cole.” You pointed to the room behind you. “I’m going now.”

“Enjoy your nothing.” He called after you. You disappeared into the hotel room and then leaned against the door once it closed. You fiddled on your phone and sent a message to Jax, relaying what you’d learned from Johnny Cage along with the address and what you’d agreed to. The door to the small bathroom to your right opened and Liu stepped out, closing the door behind him. He waited patiently for you to finish on your phone.

“When I woke up and couldn’t find you, I was worried.” He nodded to the messy bed where you’d been sleeping. And snuggling. You mustn’t forget that there had been a fair amount of snuggling.

“My phone was ringing and it felt rude to answer it with you asleep so I stepped into the hall.” You shook the phone in your hand and then filled him in on the conversation you’d shared with Johnny Cage. You left out the exhausting banter that had kept you on the phone for far longer than necessary. Even if it had been mentally exhausting, you had also enjoyed talking with him. Your phone buzzed with Jax’s response. “Okay, Jax is going to arrange a ride to take us to meet Johnny tomorrow. He’ll also let everyone else know where to meet.”

“Good.”

Silence followed and you stood awkwardly in the small entranceway of the hotel room.

“So.” You began.

“So.”

“You should probably go, right?”

“Yeah.” Liu shifted but made no move to leave and a smile played on his lips. “Or… I could stay. We could order some food and continue our… getting along for the day.”

“Mostly getting along.” You corrected. Maybe he’d chosen to forget when he’d pushed you against the wall and you’d nearly undressed him. You blinked the mental image away. If you thought about it for too long then you’d probably end up right back where you’d started. “We could. Is that what you wanted to do?”

“Are you okay with that?”

“I guess.”

“There was a menu around here somewhere.” Liu walked back into the open area of the room and you were grateful he’d taken the initiative to make the decision to stay. In all honesty, his presence was comforting and conflicting. You craved the comfort but the guilt and pain made you want to push him away. Your brain was such a mess. Your emotions were even worse. You joined him and mulled over the menu, trying to discern what was safe for you to eat. Liu called to place the order since he had several questions about the food. His diet was more specific than yours was. You had never quite taken to the vegetarian diet completely. Your food arrived and you sat on your bed and ate while making quiet conversation. It was pleasant, if not a little awkward. In a way, it was reminiscent of when you would spend time alone together when you were first dating Kung Lao. You had often avoided discussing the difficult things then but not for the sake of each other. Instead, it was for Kung Lao.

“Cole seems to have taken a shine to you.”

“Yeah, he’s a nice guy and his family is cute. I think he feels guilty about Kung Lao so he’s compensating a little.”

“I could see that. I tried to reassure him that he isn’t to blame.”

“I did too.” You clicked your tongue in amusement. Liu gently nudged you with his shoulder.

“Today was nice.”

“I mean, parts of it were.”

“We had a bit of a rough start but things didn’t end so horribly.”

“Well,” you began in a higher, nervous pitch, “we didn’t exactly fix anything.” Liu laughed. “And I think we definitely made things worse but… all things considered, neither one of us is dead and we aren’t screaming at each other so that’s something.”

“I was thinking and… maybe we don’t have to fix anything.” Liu avoided your eyes and began to clean up dinner. You knew why he was avoiding your eyes because you were looking at him like he’d lost his damn mind. He had. He was insane. You couldn’t keep going like this. You both knew that. “We can’t ignore it, obviously. But we can’t expect to resolve anything when we’re like this. We’re grieving, Y/N. We hurt each other. But I also think that it could be healthy to try and find a way to be content amongst all of that too. We can’t force a resolution, Y/N. I think that’s clear.” Liu’s smile was soft but strained, like talking about it so analytically pained him. “I don’t think I can handle this much misery all the time.”

“I understand.” You didn’t necessarily disagree with him you just couldn’t see the end either. He seemed to think there was some kind of happily ever after waiting for you and you didn’t think there was. The only end to life was death. Even if you found happiness eventually, life would continue moving. No amount of happiness would erase your history nor would it erase your trauma. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t find joy. You were just being realistic. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” You helped him gather the dishes. Liu then placed the tray aside on the desk. You picked up the tray and placed it carefully outside the door and then returned to him. “Surreal is maybe a better word for what we are right now.”

“Surreal works.” Liu’s smile was forced and it pained you. “We’re going to be okay.”

“Oh, you think so, hmm? Confident in that?”

“I am.” He grinned but you could still see that worry behind his dark eyes. Liu had never been a good liar either. It was a wonder that he’d fooled you all those years ago. Perhaps because he’d said all the things that you’d been afraid he’d say.

“I suppose the worst thing that could happen is that we decide not to talk to each other anymore and lose touch. Then in like, thirty years, we’ll reunite and reminisce about the old days. Then this won’t seem so complicated anymore.” You hadn’t realized how much you’d considered that as an option until then. Liu seemed alarmed. “What?”

“Is that what you plan to do?”

“That would imply that I’ve thought past today so… no.” You sat on the side of the bed facing the window. There was no way to open the window so this was as close to the breeze and the stars as you could get. “But it happens. People drift apart even after being as close as we were especially after traumatic stuff like this. And this is a pretty messed up thing we’re dealing with, Liu. I can’t pretend to know what will happen.”

“I don’t want to drift apart.” He sat next to you and cautiously placed a hand over yours on the bed between you. There were times where he treated you like a ticking time bomb. This was one of them.

“Of course not, Liu. I don’t want that to happen either.”

“You had that scenario pretty thought out.”

“This time, Liu? You’re the one overthinking things.”

“Maybe.” He watched out the window, but you felt his thumb brush over the back of your hand. Looking at the night sky was easier than looking at each other. But right now the night sky looked empty. You didn’t see the stars. Just the lights of busy Los Angeles, a thing which brought you no peace. “Do you think you’ll still be this cute in thirty years?”

“I uh…” You laughed and pretended to consider it. “I didn’t think about it. For the brief moment I considered this make-believe scenario, you were still cute.” You joked and nudged him playfully.

“You’re beautiful Y/N, so I’m sure you will be too.” Liu still didn’t look at you. “I always thought so. Even when I used to tease you.” You rolled your eyes at him in disgust and he laughed again. You were well beyond being bashful at his compliments.

“Cut it out, Liu.”

“I just don’t want to leave it unsaid.”

“It feels like you’re trying to butter me up.” You narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

“Maybe. Or… perhaps this last week I’ve been cruel to you. I thought that I’d pay you a compliment instead.” That was as good an excuse as any. You had dug at each other quite a bit the past few days.

“I’m not vain.”

“I know. I always liked that about you.”

“Stop it, Liu. You’re freaking me out.” You laughed and shoved at his shoulder.

“I won’t.” He leaned back on one arm. You reached for your phone on the bed behind you as it buzzed. Jax had verified the location online as legitimate. He’d even found out that the property belonged to Johnny. Apparently, Jax had been much more suspicious of him than you had been. You’d decided to trust Johnny. And if he lied to you then you’d just go to plan B. Kidnapping. Jax continued on to say that he’s pretty sure the asshole just wanted to show off his beach house. You chuckled. You’d thought the same thing. You replied quickly to ask if you were still to meet in the morning in the same place. Jax replied to be in the lobby by ten. “Going off without a hitch?”

“Are you spying on my conversation?” You cradled the phone protectively against your chest and pouted.

“I didn’t mean to.” You set the phone aside face up. You had nothing to hide anyway, you’d just been trying to lighten the mood. Then you watched the dark sky out the window and tried to find something positive to say about it. He was right. You’d had too much unpleasantness lately. “Kung Lao would have loved…”

“Do you think about that a lot? What Kung Lao would have thought or felt?”

“Don’t you?” You thought that was obvious. “We spent most of our time together. This is the longest I’ve been alone in years.”

“I… hadn’t considered that.” Liu’s eyes fell to the floor. There was plenty that you hadn’t thought regarding each other. “It must have been hard waking up next to me.” You sighed heavily. There were those difficult conversations you couldn’t seem to avoid. You didn’t know how to respond. That wasn’t an easy answer. If you could have lied and said it wasn’t weird than it would have been simpler. But lying had gotten you into this in the first place and you didn’t want to lie. You were so tired of hurting.

“I… yes.” You sighed and then closed your eyes tight. “But I confess that I miss being held.” You hated saying it and even got the chills as you did. You and Kung Lao had spent most nights at least next to each other if not tangled up in each other. Liu was watching you with those big sad puppy dog eyes of his again. “But I also feel selfish and awful for having briefly thought it was nice.”

“It’s okay to be selfish at times.” He clasped his hands together in his lap, as if nervous they would betray him as they had often done. “I confess that when I woke up alone, I panicked.” You smiled a little. You hadn’t considered that he would be upset to wake up alone after falling asleep next to you. Oh, boy. You were both a mess. “But then I remembered this was your room and you had nowhere to run, really.”

“Did you briefly consider that I was so dedicated to running away that I went and got another hotel room to avoid you?”

“No.” He laughed and then furrowed his brow as if trying to picture you doing that. “You didn’t consider that, did you?”

“Of course not.” You chuckled, resting your elbows on your knees. “The phone rang and I didn’t want to wake you. That’s about as far as I had thought.” Your head was pounding and you realized all at once that you were clenching your jaw. Ugh, tension headache. “At least this time I woke up with all of my clothes on.” Liu laughed softly and avoided your eyes. Then he laughed harder as if he’d just gotten the joke. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s kind of like déjà vu, isn’t it? You woke up next to me again and then I woke up alone.”

“You know, Liu, I’m trying, but that’s not funny.”

Still he laughed and you watched him in disbelief. Was it you? Were you the one cracking up?

“I have to laugh, Y/N. I have to or I think about how screwed up it is.” He leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. His face fell. You turned to watch him in disbelief and your stomach twisted up into knots. “I just couldn’t help myself, could I? I had to… cross that line.”

“Liu…” You didn’t want to fight again. You thought you had made a truce for the day.

“I have to say this, Y/N.” He turned his head to the side to look at you and you leaned on your side to better meet his eyes. They were so sad and it was killing you. “The woman that Kung Lao planned to spend the rest of his life with. Only a little while after he’s gone and I just… how selfish I am.” You searched his troubled eyes and then couldn’t help but laugh but you weren’t smiling either. Liu knit his brow in confusion.

“Liu, I… I said the same things to myself.” You offered a sympathetic smile but he didn’t seem relieved to hear that. “Not about you, obviously. I don’t think I’ve ever used the word selfish when describing you, really. Or at least meant it. Maybe out of anger… but I… how could I? Kung Lao’s best friend. His brother. I feel like I just lost him and I still, somehow, couldn’t manage to keep myself together well enough not to sleep with you.”

“Sometimes we’re a lot alike.”

“Most times it feels like we’re oil and water.” Now you avoided his eyes, afraid of what yours might reveal to him. “I’m sorry that I ran off that morning, Liu. I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do. I was terrified and embarrassed and ashamed and… the idea of having to talk to you about it was too much.”

“Why were you so scared?” He turned on his side to face you, as if eager for this answer, as if he had been caught wondering that same thing for too long. “I know it was a… big thing but I…”

“I guess no matter how I played it in my head, it went wrong. You uh…” You were having a difficult time saying the words without getting upset. “I kept picturing us having to find a way to… be okay with… it being a mistake because… I…” You were frustrated with yourself for not being able to say it. “It felt like a mistake. Like we’d fallen into an old habit. Or that it was just… a transaction and I couldn’t hear those words again after everything. I was already falling apart and I don’t know what that would have done to me. And then… you being receptive to it would have been just as painful… I… Kung Lao…” You had to stop there. You were pretty sure you’d made your point.

“I think I get it.” His eyes were taking you in while yours were avoiding him and were most likely glassy with tears. “Maybe I didn’t consider how much I’d hurt you back then. It never crossed my mind until you brought it back up and I realized the damage I’d done. I hadn’t considered myself that important.” There was that similarity again. Neither one of you thought yourselves to be important to the other when it was far from the truth. “I wish I’d had a say in the matter that morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I understand now.” He sat up and offered you a hand to help your back up too. you took it and sat up with him but he didn’t let go of your hand. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that I reacted so angrily. That I was so cold to you. I thought it might make things easier and put distance between us.”

“Did it work?”

“No. No, it didn’t. I wish, more than anything, that I could go back.” His eyes were dripping with sincerity and you avoided his gaze again. You couldn’t help but think that if this had been Kung Lao, you never would have had this conversation. Nothing ever would have gotten resolved. You had both avoided your emotions like the plague.

“To that morning? Hard pass, Liu.”

“Think about it. I could wake up with you. Keep you from running. We could talk.”

“That’s a fantasy, Liu. It wouldn’t have ended the way you want.” You threw him an accusatory glance. “You’re fantasizing. I was too panicked. I would have lashed out.”

“And maybe I could have kept a level head.”

“It’s a fantasy.”

“Let me have my fantasy, Y/N.” He laughed and gave your hand a squeeze. His smile faded as he let go of your hand and closed some of the distance between you. Your instinct was to pull back but you didn’t. He pushed your hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear. The loose strands of your long hair tickled your neck as they fell back into place. You turned your gaze away. His hand was warm as it rested on your cheek and you could feel him admiring you.

“Seems dangerous to let you.”

“Many good things can be dangerous, Y/N,” he whispered. You got the shivers and moistened your lips nervously. You should have moved back when you’d wanted to. You were so much closer than you’d realized and his lips brushed just against yours. He was going to kiss you and you knew what would happen. Tender kisses led to feverish kisses. No kiss between you had ever stayed just that. You had never once exchanged a soft, momentary kiss. Every single time you had wound up in his arms. His lips would treasure yours like they were something priceless and yours would tease his in return to make him want more. Then you’d be naked.

The more time you spent this close to Liu the more inevitable it seemed to wind up in his bed and you weren’t sure that was the right thing. You weren’t sure it wouldn’t destroy you. It was a dangerous way to think but he was right too. Many of the best things were often dangerous.

“Don’t.” You managed and caught his eyes, half-lidded and admiring your lips. His gaze snapped back up to yours and you watched as he took a careful breath. You could feel it against your lips. He was thinking it too. How dangerous this had become.

“Probably a bad idea, right?” His voice was low and just for you.

“An incredibly bad idea.” You tried to joke but your words fell flat. It was miserable being this close to him and not kissing him, against every instinct in your body. You could feel as he ran his tongue over his lower lip, as he weighed the pros and cons of defying you. You held your breath.

Then he scooted back a few inches. You felt like you could suddenly breathe, like the air was less thick than it had been so close to him. Your heart was hammering away and it was a headrush, as if to punish you for having wanted that kiss. You cleared your throat and put more distance between you. But try as you might, you couldn’t stop thinking about those marks you’d left on his back that you had so clearly felt earlier. Did he think of how you’d clung to him in passion every time he shifted and felt those scabs? That was truly a dangerous thought.

“It’s late. I should go.” He had turned away, but his eyes were wide and his breath was short, as though he were also fighting dangerous thoughts.

“Yeah. Good idea.” You got up and walked past him and around the bed. He followed you and then walked past you to the door. Then he bowed politely.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He looked hesitant, as if he were still considering crossing that line again.

“Get out, Liu.” You gestured to the door behind him, making the choice for him. He laughed and did just as you asked. Once he’d gone, you leaned against the door with a thud and whined. “What am I doing?” You closed your eyes tight and felt a wave of guilt weigh you down. Then you flipped the swing bar lock shut on the door as if this would provide you with protection from your stupid feelings.

Maybe you had to reconsider the situation.

Maybe this was inevitable.

Maybe guilt wasn’t enough to keep you from being attracted to Liu Kang.

It felt wrong. It felt like you were betraying Kung Lao. It was too soon and you were too broken. But maybe someday it wouldn’t be those things. You weren’t sure how long either one of you could wait either. Spending the afternoon with Liu had been eye opening.

Next Chapter >>

[takuyakistall]

I recently re-read his Dorm SSR personal story here! A few questions and thoughts lingered inside my head as I read it and it collectively got worse when @poisonepel​ started questioning things too. Which ultimately led to me writing this down while running on half a brain cell and a spoonful of rice for lunch. This isn’t necessarily an analysis but more of just me questioning a lot of stuff. I already pointed out things that are already obvious so it might get repetitive. Placed under the cut since it’s a bit lengthy! I tried my best to be coherent in the very least.

Rook’s Nickname for Jade - Rook calls Jade “Monsieur Mastermind” and perhaps you’re already telling me right now that I shouldn’t look deeper into this since it doesn’t look like it matters anyway but let me tell you right now that I tend to overanalyze things when it comes to Jade. I find it a bit odd how Rook calls Jade the mastermind, presuming that we’re talking about the Octavinelle trio, when it’s often Azul that’s shown to be as such. Of course, it’s been revealed that Rook analyzes or stalks nearly everything that happens to catch his interest (Jade’s Gym Personal). So it’s safe to presume that his judgement is, if not entirely correct, accurate. “Your staple food, your habits, your walking speed, when you sleep, your heart rate, how many times you blink… those and many others I have recorded perfectly.” Just by reading this line alone I became pretty sure that he observed something deeper than that--which is his personality.

       The question is, why is Jade the mastermind instead of Azul? Why is Azul’s nickname “Roi du Fort” instead of being the mastermind? Well, it might be common knowledge but Jade, in a way, controls Azul despite what it looks like to the public which is Azul controlling Jade since he, as the higher authority, has power over him. I read a popular post explaining why Jade probably undertakes the role of a servant rather than taking the position for himself knowing that he has the full capabilities to do so. This will be explained further later in a different note.

What I’m trying to imply is that behind the scenes, Azul isn’t really the mastermind behind everything despite what it seems. It’s Jade who’s really in control of things, by picking up the act of a servant or butler. 

“If the entire hierarchy collapses just due to the absence of a single person, then that proves that they aren’t all as great as they seem.” - I just had the need to point this particular line out since it just seemed so… Jade. Everything about this line just screams out the same vibes he radiates, cold and severe. I know he’s faking the whole thing about having a falling out with Azul and wanting to join Pomefiore but I think it is true that without him, Octavinelle won’t nearly be as great from when he was still there.

First of all, He’s Octavinelle’s vice-dorm leader. Surely, being in such a high position, he carries a lot of duties that only he can do as the acting vice leader. There’s also the fact that he does it superbly than other people which is why Octavinelle is the way it is right now, it would be hard to replace him. They would have to look for someone who’s on par with Jade, in the very least.

Secondly, he’s somewhat an emotional pillar to Azul. Judging from their childhood and current relationship as of now, I like to think that a big reason why Azul is the way he is right now, is because of Jade and Floyd acting as his emotional support or whatever even though they insist that their relationship is purely just for business and will drop it if it’s no longer beneficiary to them. The main reason why I think that way is because of the Octavinelle CM which has a scene of Azul holding a bubble in between his hands. Inside the bubble were the twins in their eel forms. The next thing that happened--the bubble popped and disappeared, along with the tweels inside it. We could see the horror on Azul’s face when it happened in that scene and slowly led to the overblot scene which says a lot about how Azul views the twins. Have a more detailed explanation regarding their relationship here! Summary, Azul will lose his shit if Jade were to disappear. Now, where is Octavinelle in all of this? Probably a mess in the corner right there with their dorm leader not in his right state of mind. In short, Octavinelle will probably crumble under the absence of Jade. The reason why Octavinelle is still functioning under Azul’s command during this whole stunt Jade is making is precisely because Azul knew that it was all an act.

"Jade’s excellence in everything he does is renowned even among the Dorm Leaders. He might be a super secretary or something to be able to answer Azul's difficult requests." - Vil's words to Rook during their little talk about letting Jade into Pomefiore. This stuck out to me because back then I didn't really give this much thought but now that I'm re-reading this, it makes me wonder how good is Jade at his job as a Vice Dorm Leader? These words coming from Vil hold a certain weight I can't describe, for him to say that his excellence is renowned even among the Dorm Leaders and to be described as a Super Secretary.

For Jade to have earned this kind of reputation despite being in the land for only two years so far is quite a feat! I would've expected less from someone else but this is Jade we're talking about so, ignoring his terrible weakness in flying, I can assume that Jade worked hard for him to have reached this kind of performance level in such a short time. To be recognized by almost all of the Dorm Leaders isn't an easy feat.

Jade as an attendant - During his first day as Vil's attendant, Vil mentioned how off-putting he is from the fact that Jade was almost too good for someone on their first day. "You managed to get on such friendly terms with the stuffy and straight-laced people of the industry in such little time; and you were also perfect when it came to helping out with the shooting. You've worked much harder than I thought you would." His words. I think this is due to the nature of Jade's silver tongue, which is being able to speak in a way that makes other people do or believe what you want them to do or believe. It seems very fitting for a character like Jade.

Because of the recent personals that got released for Jade, namely the Birthday SSR, they talked about family there and it got me thinking quite a bit as to how Jade can speak so eloquently especially now that I've read that he managed to get on the good side of people who are probably way older than he is and straight-laced, no less. He vaguely mentioned their family background when he was telling a story from his childhood and said how different people would come over to their party and offer them presents. I'm assuming that these people are possibly older than he is, judging from the fact that one of them attempted to give the twins liquor despite them being at a young age, and I thought that maybe Jade grew up used to being surrounded by adults to the point where he picks up a lot of speech patterns and habits. Which inevitably leads to what he is right now. Nothing is confirmed yet, this is a mere thought I had.

Jade's past with Azul - It's briefly mentioned here in the story. Jade mentioned how there weren't as many mer-folk as there are humans so they were all basically put in the same class together during elementary school. Azul didn't catch his interest back then, it seems. He mentioned not being able to remember the very reason why the three of them—Jade, Floyd, and Azul—ended up together currently in Night Raven College.

I am genuinely curious as to what actually made the twins interested in someone like Azul. Correct me if I'm wrong but they did mention it in Chapter 3, right? Was it the growing interest when they finally took notice of Azul using his unique magic on basically everyone who fell into his trap? Someone tell me the details if it was ever mentioned, my memory is failing me.

“Tenebres” - The shoe brand Vil wanted to get his hands on but unfortunately did not obtain, particularly, the Mirror Shoe. "Tenebres" apparently only sells their products to people who they deem worthy for designs, even the designer themselves has yet to make a public appearance as they are shrouded in mystery. Vil didn't have enough time to acquire it but, surprise! Jade Leech has somehow managed to get his perfect hands on the pair of red shoes Vil wanted so much. Frankly enough, Vil was impressed he managed to obtain something he could not—alone, no less.

This is just me pondering but this particular line made me wonder, "Heh, they did some at the cost of a bit of trouble. No matter, how about you try these on instead of dwelling on the matter?", to what lengths did he actually have to go through to obtain just a pair of shoes? Or rather, what connections does he have to be able to obtain this so easily and brush it off with a mere, "cost of a bit of trouble" when clearly Vil already expressed the difficulty in obtaining these?

Another note I have to make but not completely sure if it's relevant is his family. As I've said before, they mentioned that they deal with a lot of people due to the nature of their business and that made me wonder if the designer/owner of this certain shoe brand is one of them? Perhaps Jade was able to easily contact them because of connections his family has although Floyd's wish in the event Stars & Wishes contradicts this possibility.

In Floyd's wish, he mentioned wanting a pair of shoes and Idia immediately asked him why he couldn't just buy them. Floyd answered with a simple, "I can't usually get them." Because of the price. Which, again, contradicts my theory about the Leech family being connected to the shoe brand. Although! Vil did mention how the shoe brand only sells it to people they deem worthy. Perhaps, Floyd isn't…? No—it still wouldn't explain how easily Jade got the shoes and had the brand get Vil a job there as an ambassador. Surely, that isn't due to just any normal connections anymore. Definitely shady, I want to know more.

Jade is in control - As I've said earlier, Jade is somewhat in control despite playing the role of a servant. Prime example is when Vil told him his throat was parched, Jade immediately acted upon it fully knowing what his original intentions were. He gave Vil a drink that the Mostro Lounge was apparently serving without having Vil question it further and even went as far as to let Jade take a picture and post it—even he decided the caption for the post! With a simple flow of events just like that, Jade has managed to manipulate Vil without him knowing. He did it all while taking in the role of a servant and that in itself says a lot about how he does things

I think it's worth it to take note of the fact that Jade does not like bringing attention to himself and merely brushes it off as mere shyness of some sorts when really, all he wants to do is lay low and draw as little attention to himself. It makes his job easier that way—perhaps that's the reason why he lets Azul take the spotlight all the damn time.

Another thing to take note of is something I saw from a post in Tumblr which basically sums up the whole reason why Jade is always adopting the butler persona wherever he goes. It's because he likes to be in control that way—you'd let down your guard around him and let him serve you. You want a drink? He'll serve you a drink but-! He is in control over what you will get. That's exactly what happened in this exact scene, Vil waltzed right into the center of Jade's palms.

Vil never noticed - I'm not saying Vil is dumb, because he is most definitely not. Although through the very end, I don't know if it's just because Vil got carried away with the feeling of achievement taking over him due to recent events but he did just brush away the reason why Jade was in Pomefiore in the first place and let him go away peacefully, "So long as he doesn't bare his fangs at us." In other words, Jade managed to outsmart Vil and possibly, Rook.

This is probably one of the reasons why I am confident enough to say that Jade truly is one of the most cunning bitches in the entire game because this whole ordeal just pretty much proved it.

Aftermath - There we go! We got an explanation about how Jade managed to manipulate and use Vil for his own gains err, in this context, probably Azul's. When Jade took a picture of Vil with the drink and posted it, he did it with the intention of taking advantage of Vil's popularity and viewer reach. Jade expressed his thankfulness when he mentioned how Vil saw him as "useful" perhaps his reputation prior helped him reach his goal? 

Azul praised Jade with something along the lines of "As expected of you, Jade. You're the best Night Raven's College has to offer when it comes to sneaking into another's pockets after all." Which really just backs up some of the statements I made earlier about how Jade manipulates people by letting people let their guard down around him while thinking they're the ones who have power over Jade when clearly it's not as simple as it seems. Azul mentioning that only Jade could pull off something like this just puts me off for some reason but I'll leave it be for the time being.

After that, Jade and Azul had a conversation that started with Azul asking him if he had any difficulties during his stay in Pomefiore and if he had any troubles keeping up with Vil. Jade, jokingly(?), responded that it was nothing compared to Azul's demands and orders and his time at Pomefiore was actually a vacation of some sorts for him. Which really makes me wonder what jobs does Azul usually give him if this one was somewhat of a break for Jade? A task that seemed impossible to Floyd, Jade said it was a vacation. It's a bit frightening but I guess that's his charm? Hard-working is one way to put it. 

That's the end of my Dorm SSR mini-analysis, I guess! Thank you for sticking with me till the end even though a lot of these might be repetitive. I'll probably add more depending on future brainrot but for now, this is fine. Feel free to tell me what you think about this!

[tokyoghoose]

something that never was

pairing: daisuke kambe x reader

playlist: even if it's a lie - matt maltese*, a soulmate who wasn't meant to be - jessica benko, the less i know the better - tame impala, id rather go blind - beyonce ( cadillac records ), the house we never built - gabrielle aplin*, i cant make you love me - dave thomas junior, i go crazy - orla gartland, blow my brains out - tikkle me, hidden in the sand - tally hall

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating,

summary: the coldness he radiates gets the best of you, ultimately leading to the end.

announcements!

i dont really see daisuke cheating unless it was a misunderstanding or smth, but i liked the idea of this fic. Let me know what you think!

you can tell i didnt write this in a sitting lol. Im vv sorry if it's hard to follow!

feedback is welcome and appreciated! requests are open!

There's a warm body beside you, yet the bed feels cold. The arm around your waist feels almost as foreign as the face in front of you. It hurts to look at him, to feel him. It hurts to even be around him. He's so beautiful but he feels like half the man he once was. It's disheartening.

Maybe the saying, what you don't know can't hurt you is correct because you were feeling the repercussions right about now. Curiosity really did kill the cat, and at this point, you don't even know how to get satisfaction from it. How does one bring up cheating to their partner? Especially when the partner is like Daisuke.

He likes to brush things off without paying a price except for whatever was in his bank account, the type to hand you a card and say 'go get yourself something pretty.' And it wasn't like he was a bad lover, in fact, it was very easy to fall in love with him. He has a charm about him that's magnetic, one glance and suddenly it's impossible to look away. Or at least that was your experience.

With the final confirmation that closing your eyes will do nothing other than bringing pictures into your head, you turn your back to him and try and distance your body from his. It doesn't do anything to help when he pulls you closer subconsciously, except for maybe it makes you want to cry.

You'd confront him tomorrow, you decided.

If you need to.

———

The pace you set is leisure and if kt wasn't for the poor nail bed quickly coming to nothing, it'd seem like you weren't completely losing your head. It's all you can think about. Daisuke out with some girl—who you know for a fact isn't his sister, and who is all over him. He didn't even make a move to push her off! He hates that kind of attention so if he didn't object it, then he was asking for it. He wanted the girl on his side. In fact, for someone who insists the other person sits across from him at a restaurant- he looked quite comfortable with her nearly in his lap.

Maybe you're overthinking this, y/n.

The door clicks open and your ears strain to hear the sound of Daisuke's dress shoes. He's rather indulgent when it comes to dressing wear and the shoes were practically silent, even with the short heel on the back.

"I'm home." He says to no one particular, taking off his trenchcoat and hanging it on the rack beside the door. He stops his path to the bedroom when he sees you frozen in place and staring in the living room. He merely quirks a brow, going to take off his suit and tie.

Suddenly you can't speak and you have tunnel vision. It's unfair how calm he always looks—it's almost smug like he knows everything about you and more. Like he can read your mind and tell you your darkest thoughts and when you'll die because let's be honest, it'll probably be by his hand. Maybe you should back out now before you can say anything. Forget it all because what if you're mistaken? The more you think, the more weight is added onto your shoulders and the more it pushes you down, down further into the hole you want to crawl into. Maybe you should let it because all you want to do now is escape his piercing gaze. His eyes are studying you, taking in your form and the cogs in his brain are turning to find an explanation as to why you are standing there like a psychopath and not welcoming him home like you usually do.

You feel like you're drowning. Is the light getting dimmer? The black around your vision only seems to close in around Daisuke and you try to look anywhere else but his face. There's water in your ears, the popping of them only intensifies until you can feel it pounding into your head with faint static.

Am I going to pass out?

It's not until his hand comes down gently on your shoulder that the closing circle of vision widens out and suddenly all the imaginary water rushes from your ears. You glance down at his rings before back up him, barely catching the end of his words.

"Are you alright?"

He's never been one to beg, so you would have to answer now or he'll leave it be for the rest of the night and probably months after until you're like this again.

"I-can we talk?"

He eyes you suspiciously, narrowing his eyes and keeping his brow raised before nodding, slipping his tie off around his neck, folding it neatly into the palm of his hand. He gestures for you to start the conversation, going to the minibar curving around the kitchen and living area.

When you don't reply he urges you on, "Why so tense? Did something happen, darling?"

It'd seem like he didn't really care from how cold his voice was, but you've grown accustomed to the monotone to know that he truly is concerned for your health. He genuinely wants to know why you're acting so odd. It only makes this so much harder? You're wrong- you have to be. This must be a sick trick your brain has played on you. Or he must be playing some sick trick.

Anxiety settles itself into your gut and it seems like it won't leave anytime soon.

"Daisuke, are...- are you cheating on me?"

His eyebrows finally go lax but he doesn't look up from unbuttoning the cuffs of his white button-down. His fingers fidget at the buttons and instead of the previous loose form, his hand forms a fist.

"I- "

"Why—exactly, are you accusing me of this?"

His gaze sends chills down your spine. He's offended but he doesn't offer a defense. Suddenly your mouth is dry and you lose all your words? How exactly were you going to tell him you stumbled across him and some woman in a restaurant and practically stared them down for fifteen minutes.

You decide the bear it and swallow a lump that has formed in your throat.

"You were with a woman earlier this week snd well, the displays of affection that I saw were not very like you. You've been gone for long hours and even if you blamed it on the new job, Daisuke—you never tell me anything. Is she for a case? Are you using her for information? Go on, tell me about it. Give me a reason not to accuse you."

You regain your confidence but it falters when you meet his indifferent expression. You'd prefer it if he looked angry and the silence that fills the room is deafening and the tension suffocating.

"I can't tell you anything about our cases-"

"I'm your partner! What am I going to do? Rat you out to whoever is breaking the law? Why would I even how those connections, Daisuke?"

Daisuke inhales deeply through his nose like this whole conversation is a burden on him and you can't help but feel like a burden too. Was this relationship not worth the time to talk this out? One hand grips the bar and the other pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You aren't my partner, you're my fiance. My partner and I work together. So, no. I can't tell you about the cases."

You want to rip out your hair. This isn't about his stupid job or his stupid partner. This is about the dumb fucking restaurant and the dumb fucking woman who was hanging off him.

He can't actually be this dense!

"It's not about that! Either you aren't getting the point or you keep changing the subject because it's true!" Your voice rises in pitch, your confidence failing and turning more so into desperation. But you aren't crying yet. There are no tears and your eyes are dry and you absolutely refuse to cry in front of a Kambe.

It's like the beginning of your relationship all over again. A protective barrier around yourself so you don't get hurt and offended by his cold shoulder. Was it so bad to think you've moved on from that feeling? Why is it so difficult for him to just comfort you and push back those fears? Is he that emotionally stunted? You may not know much about his past and his family, but damn— at least you're trying to work through it with him. Can he put out a little more effort?

All he does is pour himself a glass. All he does... is pour himself a glass.

"You know what- forget it. If you're so entitled and so emotionally reserved that you can't even talk to me without a drink first, then I guess we'll talk about it another time—when you don't look like my voice gives you a headache."

Daisuke actually looks taken back by your words and you suddenly feel bad for hitting a sore spot. He may not have shown it often, but he doesn't particularly like not being able to show his true emotions; no matter the reason being.

"Y/N, wait.."

But you're back on adrenaline just as soon as he felt a drop, pushing past him to get to your coat. You just needed to calm down before you said something you'd truly regret. Words tended to stay in his mind much longer than they were intended to.

"I'm staying at my mother's. Don't call me, don't text me, don't come near me until you're ready to tell me what the hell you were doing with her. "

When he doesn't say anything more and you can practically hear the cogs in his head turn, you make your way out there door, making sure to slam it shut.

You slip on the coat angrily, slamming open the door without sparing him a glance but waiting for him to say something. Anything. Were you being too rash? You shake your head and scold yourself, mentally. You can't just turn around now, not after an outburst like that. He has to learn something from this.

Irrational or not, hopefully, his true colors would show.